We Need a Gunslinger
by Lancer1968
Summary: Pre-Lancer – Something That Johnny Madrid Was Up To


We Need a Gunslinger

Summary: Pre-Lancer – Something That Johnny Madrid Was Up To

Warning: Adult Situations and Cussing

Any and All Disclaimers Applicable

Story based upon: John Fogerty's "Gunslinger"

Looking out across this town  
Kinda makes me wonder how  
All the things that made us great  
Got left so far behind

This used to be a peaceful place  
Decent folks, hard working ways  
Now they hide behind locked doors  
Afraid to speak their mind

I think we need a gunslinger  
Somebody tough to tame this town  
I think we need a gunslinger  
There'll be justice all around

Someone let the fences go  
While that bunch moved in, you know  
Shooting up the streets  
Shoutin' everybody down  
The dogs all running loose

Wreck the paper  
Closed the school  
Tired ol' judge got roughed up too  
No one left to make a stand  
They whisper, "what's the use"

I think we need a gunslinger  
Somebody tough to tame this town  
I think we need a gunslinger  
There'll be justice all around

May 1871

Chapter 1

The steady clop, clop, clop of the horse's hoofs crescendo down the middle of Yuma's Main Street one cloudless, sweat producing spring morning, where the temperature was already well into the eighties and steadily climbing as the halo ringing the sun promised more heat. No doubt about it in anyone's mind it was going to be a scorcher today. For now there was a ripple effect, comparable to dominoes falling one after the other as the townspeople ceased their hurried activities along the boardwalk to stare in absolute silence at the rider and his steed.

A young mother pulled her two small children close to her skirt as she openly gawked, while her husband stepped in front of his family shielding them from harm's way. An older couple rushed inside the nearest open doorway to watch from behind the window's curtains.

The town sheriff was standing surrounded by a small group of men; none wore a gun belt, as the sheriff held up his hands in protest to the men. They were engaged in quiet but urgent conversation when their conversation suddenly ceased as one by one each man looked up to watch the lone rider make his way down the street in the direction where they were congregated.

The sheriff gulped at the man he saw, as the men turned their attention back to him to witness his reaction. They all quickly pushed and prodded each other to move inside the office closing and latching the door behind them. Sheriff Owen Crowley, peeped through the door's center viewing portal, as the others crowed behind him, craning their heads to maybe get a glimpse through the minuscule vantage point.

They saw a young man, hell maybe he was only a boy, riding tall but easy in his saddle, wearing his hat pulled low shading his eyes from the glare of the sun. He looked neither left nor right but straight ahead as he rode towards what appeared to be his destination, the local watering hole, The Silver Jubilee. He noticed and registered every face as he rode past the mercantile, the bank, the hotel, the barber shop and the sheriff's office. He noted every action the townspeople made, every facial expression on their faces yet his face revealed nothing, no nod, no smile, no grimace, no frown and no quick tip of his hat to indicate whether he was friend or foe. There was, however, an air of foreboding danger about this stranger; his demeanor spoke volumes about his cool, calculating conduct.

Reaching his target destination, he dismounted with a smooth unhurried fluid motion and then pulled his Winchester lever-action repeating 1866 Yellowboy rifle from its saddle scabbard. Around his narrow torso and clinging tight to his right leg, his Smith and Wesson Schofield six-shooter hung, quietly, waiting to do its owner's biding wherever and whenever he beckoned the sleeping peacemaker to roar.

Hitching his horse to the railing, he turned ever so slowly to peruse the street and what few occupants remained that stood absolutely still, like a cigar store wooden Indian, watching him, as he watched them. Grinning, a small lopsided smile appeared on his face, as he gave his horse a quick pat and whispered to him, "Looks like we're in the right place, amigo."

Other townspeople watched from behind doors and windows, each filled with their own expectation that he was the "one", who would be the answer to their prayers. The "one" sent to free them from the strangle hold that Milt Hamilton had over their lives and their town, a town that had once been filled with decent hard-working folk. Nowadays, the decent folks had to scurry about like timid mice to do their necessary business transactions and then bustle back to their nests behind locked doors and shuttered windows. Only the very plucky or very foolish dared come into town on Saturday mornings in mass to do their trading and leave as quickly as possible with as little fuss as humanely possible. No one made any waves in Milt Hamilton's town…no one.

Most of Yuma's businesses shut their doors by noon and stayed closed until Monday morning, when only a few local town souls bothered to do any trading. The town was drying up and driving away the good, decent folk who had only wanted a place to put down their roots and raise their families in a peaceful environment. In another six months' time none of those families would still be found in Yuma. That is, unless someone did something about Milt Hamilton and his gang of ruthless toughs.

# # #

Ever since Milt had moved his base operations to be closer to oversee Yuma Crossing and his steamboat operations the town was losing their foothold to becoming a thriving mecca in the desert wastelands to the greedy bastard. Yuma Crossing once brought settlers, passengers and a steady trade of goods up and down the wide Colorado River from México, California and Arizona to the booming town that had served as gateway to those locations. Now it just transported miners and their equipment to operate and maintain Milt's various mines which produced a multitude of minerals, but primarily silver and gold. Milt Hamilton had taken over the town, getting filthy rich in the process, squashing whoever dared get in his way. He charged lavish fees for anyone to use the Yuma Crossing other than his miners.

To make matters worse, lately his band of rowdies had been overstepping any unspoken boundaries of morality by terrorizing the remaining residents, shooting out business windows, forcing the residents to stir clear of the town, except for Saturday errands. Both the school and church had been required to shut down and were tightly boarded up to prevent looting of the merger items left inside.

Only The Silver Jubilee, the cafe and the dining room of the hotel remained open to keep his miners and henchmen appeased during their evening hours and all day on Saturday and Sunday. The local saloon girls were kept busy either on their feet selling watered-down, over-priced liquor or gaping at the peeling paint on the ceiling in utter detachment while on their backs as the miners and miscreants took their satisfaction out on the girls. Little wonder the girls usually looked rode hard and put away wet. Ruthless prevailed throughout Yuma by order of the dandified, well-groomed Milt Hamilton, who spared no expense to look and play the role of a land baron. Land grabber was to the point since Milt had been forcing anyone off their land, if he wanted their land for his get-rich operations.

The newspaper editor, Travis Perkins, had been severely beaten when he refused to retract his damning editorial about Milt Hamilton's operations and treatment of the local citizens. Travis was forced to leave town and not under his own volition, but instead he had been tarred, feathered , hog-tied and hung on the hitching post from the front of his own business as a warning to any other soul stupid enough to cross Milt. Travis was left tied and draped over the railing for two days before the toughs booted him from the town with nothing but his tattered, tarred and feathered clothes on his back, jeering and taunting the man as he staggered down Main Street, barefooted into the desert without a canteen.

Even the local judge wasn't immune from the torment of Milt and his band of lowlifes. The honorable judge Thomas A. Whitmore, II and his petite wife, Mary were dragged from their home in the middle of the night, barefooted, wearing nothing but their nightclothes. Sitting high on his quarter horse, Milt decreed that the Whitmore's had five minutes to gather their belongings and get the hell out of Yuma. The frightened couple grabbed as much as they could before the tormenters dragged them outside their small framed house, where couple stood in horror as they watched the vile transgressors torch their home to the ground.

The sheriff, Owen Crowley, as it turned out was in name only, as Milt and his bullies forced every man to turn over their guns, rifles included along with their ammunition or face similar treatment, not to the sheriff for safe-keeping, but to Milt's miscreants. Owen remained only because he didn't have anywhere else to go, and he was hopeful, oh so very hopeful that either Travis or Judge Whitmore had been successful with getting a message that he had passed to both of them as he assisted them on their way out of Yuma.

Val Crawford lived about thirty miles northwest of Yuma, in a small miner's cabin that Crowley had directed Travis and the Whitmore's towards, if they could reach it by foot. He managed to gather a few items of clothing, shoes, hats and some grub in a sack, along with canteens for them that he managed to sneak to them by hiding items in a barrel at the edge of town. He indicated to them in a scribbled message where to find the items the next evening, all they needed to do was stay out of sight until then. Not an easy task to do, but they managed to gain entry into the church by the back door to hide out.

Owen's messages that he entrusted to Travis and to the Whitmore's was to his former friend and trail partner, Val Crawford. He knew that Val once had connections with a certain notorious gun hawk, and that both were known for taking up lost causes. Maybe, just maybe Yuma might be a lost enough cause that the gunslinger or Val would be willing to become involved to save Yuma from the brutal, contemptible Milt Hamilton.

# # #

The young man, dressed in form hugging leather pants, decorated with polished silver Conchos down both legs, silver spurs that chinked as he stepped up on the boardwalk, wore a brightly colored blue shirt that were any townspeople close enough to view matched his startling sapphire eyes that were intensely focused as he continued his scrutiny of the lay of the land. He stepped up to the batwing doors with his rifle in one hand, surveyed the cool interior of The Silver Jubilee. Meeting with his approval, he turned to audaciously wink at the few townspeople still on Main Street before pushing the batwings open to saunter inside with the full measure of confidence in his body language. He thought to himself, "Never let them see ya sweat."

He moved to the far corner table to continue his observation of the interior, hooking a boot over a chair rung, pulled the chair out to gracefully sit. He lightly placed his rifle on top of the table; barrel pointed towards the still swinging batwing doors and looked directly at the barkeep.

The barkeep looked at him from behind the bar as he wiped out several glasses, "You ordering anything or just taking up space, boy? Cafe down that street will serve you a sarsaparilla if that's what you're looking to order," he smirked.

He stopped smirking when the young man, gave him the once over, locking his steely blazing blue eyes on the man, "I ain't ya boy, mister. Name's Madrid, Johnny Madrid. Bring me a clean glass and a bottle of tequila with the fixin's."

The barkeep dropped the beer mug he was cleaning, smashing to smithereens as it kissed the floor, he stuttered, "Mr. Madrid, I'm...uh...I'm sorry. I ahh...I didn't...realize it was you. Be right there with your order, sir."

His hands shook as he retrieved a shot glass, wiped it inside and out for any traces of dust or smudges, before placing it on a serving tray. He reached for a new bottle of tequila and added two bowls to the tray, one containing coarse salt while the other held quarter slices of lemons, which he freshly sliced.

Taking the tray to the table, he wiped off the top of the table, before setting the tray down, using his large belly to balance the load. He stammered, "So...rr...y, Mr. Madrid, ve...ry...so...rr...y. Accept my apologies; this here is on the house."

Johnny noticed that his hands were still shaking as he attempted to uncork the bottle; he looked similar to a dog he had seen once that trembled and shook like it was pissing out goober peas. Johnny pushed the barkeep's hands away from the bottle, "Quite ya fussin'. Go away. I can pour it myself."

"Yessir, Mr. Madrid, anything else I can get for you?"

"Yep, let Milt Hamilton know I'm here and lookin' for him."

"Mr. Hamilton? Why, he's over at the barber shop. I can't disturb him while he's there...he'd have my hide." The barkeep looked over his shoulder in the approximate direction where the Hamilton was before noticing the look Johnny gave him. "I'll go right away and let him know you're in town. Anything else, Mr. Madrid?"

"Nope, just tell him I'm here, waitin'."

# # #

"Sheriff, is that him?" asked several anxious and nervous men.

"Now how in the hell am I suppose to know if that's him or not? It ain't like he came over and introduce hisself, now is it?" grumbled Sheriff Crowley. "I reckon it's him, it ain't like we expecting a whole passel of gunslingers riding into town, now are we?"

"Well, are you going over and find out?" questioned one of the men.

"Nope, he knows where I am. Haven't any of ya ever heard of letting sleeping dogs lie where they are? Iffin' he has a mind to it, he'll come over here when he's ready. Supposing, just supposing, he ain't the one we're expecting? What if Milt's called him up his own professional? Or could be he's just passing through. Now don't any of you have business to tend too other than mine?"

A quick shuffling of boots and some quick glances were passed among the men.

"I thought as much, well go on then, git about your business and let me worry about that gunslinger. And whatever you do, stay away from him...let him approach me, I'm warning every last jackals of you. If that is Madrid, we do not want to get on his bad side."

"Sure Owen, we get you."

"Yea, sheriff, we'll keep our distance, right men?"

Nods of agreement were offered as Owen opened the door and ushered them out, "Go on then, get your business done and get on home. You fellows have families, crops and livestock to tend to. Let me take care of this."

Chapter 2

Johnny sat at his table, sucking on a ripe, juicy lemon that he had dipped in the coarse salt; he spit several seeds to the floor before tipping back his shot of tequila. Grinning at the slow burning sensation that ran down his throat to his belly, he caressed the stock of his rifle, tracing a well worn pattern on the smooth polished surface. He was well aware that the other patrons in The Silver Jubilee were nervously watching him, but deemed them harmless as Johnny noted they were unarmed. Their demeanor was certainly non-threatening as evident by their quickly looking elsewhere when he looked pointedly in their direction to size them up.

Deciding against another shot of tequila, Johnny beckoned to one of the saloon girls to come join him. Three girls stood near the bar, wearing their clingy, revealing dresses, one in a faded red silk with the hardened look of leather with too much cheek rouge and lip coloring in her feeble attempts to hide her lost glow of youth. Another wore a tattered black and red striped dress with a too tight bodice; her ample breasts appeared they would spill over the top of the dress if she took a deep breath with the strong possibility of also bursting the side seams. She smiled; Johnny noted that the gap where she was missing her two front teeth.

The third girl was young, still had the appearance of simplicity, freshness, youthful vitality going for her. She wore a dark green silk with a feathered ruffle and kept her eyes downcast, knowing full well she was being scrutinized by the fine-looking gunslinger. Butterflies danced in her stomach as she imagined what a night with him would be like instead of a dirty, stinking miner, who didn't believe in using soap and water.

The other two girls with twinges of jealousy and frustration clearly stamped upon their gloomy faces pushed her forward, "He's pointing ta ya, Mandy, git over there and keep him company."

Mandy smoothed down the wrinkles of her dress, primped her auburn hair that was knotted at the back of her nape and glided over to Johnny. He rose quickly to pull the chair to his immediate left out for her, which momentarily caught Mandy off guard; she wasn't expecting him to have any gentlemanly manners at all.

"Name's Johnny, ma'am," he whispered in her ear as he gently scooted her chair into the table.

She looked up in confusion; noticing his smooth face, without a trace of rough whiskers forming that she could see, as he sat down again. He made certain that his rifle and pistol were accessible should he have need to call on either one.

"Would ya like a drink, ma'am?" he softly asked her in a voice that dipped of honey, smoky rooms and fine blended whiskey.

Mandy looked over at the other girls, clearly not sure what to do with this very young gunslinger who was treating her like a piece of fine bone china. They shrugged their bare shoulders and continued watching, each wondering why they weren't the one chosen to keep the young man company.

"Okay, Mr. Madrid, a drink would be fine."

"Ma'am, it's Johnny, tequila okay?"

"Sure, Johnny, tequila suits me, but only if you call me Mandy and not ma'am."

Johnny looked at the other two girls. "Could one of ya bring another glass...for Mandy? Be much obliged."

Both girls pushed the other to get back behind the bar to grab an empty glass, Rosa in red won out over Bella. Bella glared at the small woman who smiled triumphantly back at her small achievement in being able to push and slide her way past the slower woman. Sticking out her tongue at Bella, Rosa flounced for all she was worth to the table with the glass, leaning way over in front of Johnny to give him a clear view of her own breasts, hoping to entice him for later. The way she figured it, anyone who caressed the butt of his gun the way he did, certain would give her a better than average ride. One a girl didn't often get from the men around Yuma. He might even be worth keeping around for awhile.

Johnny's eyes glanced over her clear offerings, smirked, "Thanks."

"I'm Rosa. Can I get ya anything else, Johnny?" She asked dropping her hand to his rock-hard thigh, expertly gliding her hand upwards until he grabbed hold of it and firmly squeezed it from traveling any further.

"Nope, Rosa, just the glass, thanks again," he said clearly dismissing her.

She gave him a pitiful look, wanted to say something but didn't before turning and walking back to the bar. Bella jabbed her with her elbow just below her breasts, "Don't look like he's interested in your goods neither, dearie."

"Shut ya pie hole, ya fat cow," she snarled at her, grabbing a bottle and sloshing a pour of some cheap rotgut whiskey for herself and tossing it back.

"I'm just saying..."

"And I'm saying shut-up before I give ya a fat lip ta match the rest of ya."

Johnny looked over, "Hey, both of ya shut-up and go about your ahhh business, seems ta me there are some lonesome cowboys over at that table." He emphasized the direction by picking up his rifle and pointing towards them.

"Fellows, buy the ladies a drink, will ya? Take them upstairs and entertain them, real slow like. I don't want ta see any of ya again until mañana, comprende, mi amigos?"

Manner settled, Johnny turned his attention back to Mandy, as he poured her a drink he left his glass empty, "Salute Mandy! Drink up."

"What about you, ain't you having any?" she asked as she raised her glass to her mouth and swallowed the burning clear fire.

"Not now, maybe later when we go upstairs," he winked at her. "For now Mandy, let's just enjoy the wait for Hamilton. Ya know him well?" He asked refilling her glass, watching while the bar emptied out of patrons as the cowboys escorted Rosa and Bella up the stairs carrying bottles and glasses.

"What's there to know, he runs the town and the people in it follow his orders or else."

"Or else what?"

"Or else they don't stick around for long, or keep breathing for long in some cases," said the girl swallowing another drink. "Is there a reason for all your questions, Johnny?"

"Oh, just call me curious, like to know about a town and who runs it, is all."

"Why?"

Johnny grinned at the girl, giving her one more drink, pushing the bowl of lemons at her, "Try that with salt and lemon, Mandy, it draws out more flavors. I dunno, I might want to settle down here if I like who runs the town and how it's being run. If I don't, then psssttttt I'll leave, go somewhere else."

# # #

Sheriff Crowley picked up a few wanted posters from his desk and rifled through them. He must have looked at the same handful of posters a dozen times over before he realized he wasn't really looking at them.

Pacing back and forth he held his hands up to his eyes and rubbed thinking, "I just can't go over there and ask him if he's Johnny Madrid. What to do? What to do? Damn it and Milt Hamilton to hell and back!"

The door creaked open and Sheriff Crowley looked up to see a few of Yuma's founders crowding inside his office.

"Sheriff?" began David Jameyson, the "acting mayor" and person nominated by the other two town council members, Peyt Zucker and Bill Weaver to do their parleying.

"Git in and close the door, mayor, been expecting you and your cronies."

The mayor held his hat in his hands and twisted it about, "Well, sheriff are you going to go speak with that gunslinger or not?"

The sheriff made a small sound of disbelief at the simplicity of the question that was not so simple to answer, "No, Mayor Jameyson, I do not believe I will go speak with him. He's carrying weapons and as you can clearly see, I am not. I stand here before you, a powerless sheriff, as I will point out; you are a powerless mayor and town council. Now if you wish to go see the man and ask him his business, you go right ahead. Let me know how that works out for you."

The mayor and his councilmen stared at the sheriff before huddling together to regroup. Mayor Jameyson asked, "What do we do then? Wait and see if he's here to help or do you suggest we start packing and pull out of Yuma?"

"The man just got here!" He yelled at the mayor. "Can we just bid our time, wait and see his hand before we do anything? I don't know if he's our man or Hamilton's man. Just go home and leave me in peace. I'll get word to you if I need you for anything...so far I don't!"

"No need to get hostile with me," grumbled the mayor. "I'm only trying to help. You know as well as I do that we need a gunslinger around here to help us out of this mess."

"You ain't helping; you're sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, leave me and the situation be. I don't think that's asking for too much, now is it?"

The men muttered to themselves, but did leave, the mayor looked at him before closing the door, "If you were any kind of a sheriff, you'd go over to The Silver Jubilee and talk to the man, see if he's here for us."

Sheriff Crowley picked up his coffee mug. In frustration and self doubt he flung it against the door, watching the streams of coffee run down the door, "Yeah, if I was any kind of a sheriff..."

# # #

Charlie, the barkeep rushed into the barber shop, where Milt was sitting back in the chair with a hot towel wrapped around his face and neck. When the door was flung opened, Charlie jumped back as five guns were quickly drawn on him, all pointed squarely at his chest.

"What the hell is going on?" said a muffled voice barked from the chair.

"It's me, Mr. Hamilton, Charlie from the Jubilee. I'm sorry to disturb you but..."

"But what?"

"Well, there's a man just come in...over at the Jubilee...well he ain't really a man yet but he sure does think he is...he's more like a punk kid that came in...I...I...tried sending him away...he won't go."

"Is there a point to this somewhere Charlie?" Milt sat-up in the crushed red velvet chair, sighed once and then snapped his fingers to Gus to hand him a cigar. He waited for the barber to trim the end off, and then puffed on it as Gus held a match to light it. He took several deep drags, exhaling the strong blend into the air.

"Go on Charlie, what about this punk kid?"

"Mr. Hamilton, I don't know much more than he told me that he's Johnny Madrid. And he's asking for you."

"Johnny Madrid, well, well, well. And here I thought it was going to be just another quiet, peaceful Saturday morning in Yuma. Seems like this is going to be an interesting day after all. Right boys?"

His band of miscreants smirked at each other, nodding and agreeing with their boss, "Yeah, I heard Madrid's pretty fast."

"He kilt a friend of mine, in Nogales last year. Madrid ain't no punk kid, he's fast, real fast, 'bout the fastest draw I ever saw."

"But he ain't no faster than a bullet."

Milt appraised his men before turning back to Charlie, "This Madrid, did he say what he wanted?"

"No, Mr. Hamilton only that I was to let you know that he's over there, waiting for you to come to him."

"Oh is he now?" Milt smirked, as he leaned back in the chair, signaling for Gus to shave him. "You can tell him, that I'm busy, real busy. Tell him to make an appointment with my social secretary for next month."

Charlie looked down at his feet, that seemed glued to the floorboards, "Mr. Hamilton, uhh, sir, he ain't gonna like that one bit. I got the impression that he just might shoot me dead on the spot."

Milt snapped his fingers at his toughs, "Boys."

Once again Charlie was looking at five pistols drawn on him and he gulped.

"Charlie, deliver my message unless you do want to be dead on that spot you standing on, right now," Milt said, venom dripping from his tone.

It was at this moment in time that Charlie realized just exactly how it felt to be between a rock and a hard place, as a warm wet spot began forming on the front of his pants. He attempted to cover his shame with his hands but the spot grew in length as it traced a pathway down the front of his legs, soaking the material with the pungent odor of urine, mixed with an unwashed body. The five gun hawks began laughing at his predicament.

"For christsakes Charlie, ain't ya housebroke yet?"

Milt didn't bother looking up at the barkeep, just snapped his fingers at his head man, "Pardee, get rid of him, he's starting to stink up the place. Make sure he goes right back to the Jubilee, pissed pants and all. Let Madrid know just exactly who's in charge around here. Might be the boy will learn a hard lesson and piss his own pants before leaving town."

"Yes sir, Mr. Hamilton," Pardee motioned with his gun barrel and Charlie hung his head, left the barbershop with his escort walking behind him.

Another one of Hamilton's men joined Pardee, a short, heavyset, bearded man, by the name of Shane McHugh. He was a vicious sadist that took immense pleasure in seeing other people suffered under his hands. He had recently joined Hamilton's group, pulled in by Pardee and he was looking to make a name for himself. Getting the opportunity to take down an up and coming, cocky pistolero like Johnny Madrid, was just what he had been looking for. He flexed the fingers of his gun hand as he fell in stride with the longer, leaner Pardee.

Charlie looked over his shoulder at his escorts and pleaded, "Fellows, can I go change my pants first, please?"

"Now what you think Charlie? You heard Mr. Hamilton, I don't think he would be pleased with us at all if we were to go against his orders, what do you think McHugh?"

"Day, you got that right. I betcha Mr. Hamilton would plug Charlie here full of lead if he didn't follow his orders. Move it Charlie, I wanna see what this fool kid looks like." The small possession continued down the street, as anxious townsfolk watched from the shadows.

Everyone could see the dark stain on the front of Charlie's pants. Women turned away in repugnance, men worried and wondered that if this is what happened to one of Hamilton's own men what chance did they have? The few children old enough to know that the man in front had peed his pants pointed and giggled until parents hustled them away from windows and told them to "hush", not wanting to draw any attention.

Sheriff Crowley watched from behind his door window and shook his head. One thing he knew without a doubt was that things were going to start happening in "his" town. Whether they were for the good or the bad, there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. He could only hope that they weren't going to be too ugly for the townspeople or for him. But at least his and everyone else's question would soon be answered, whether or not that audacious, brash young gunslinger came to help them or to help Hamilton. From the looks of things, seemed like Charlie had been unlucky enough to be both their messenger and he was getting the short end of the draw from both men clambering to be the "Big Dog" in charge.

# # #

At The Silver Jubilee, Johnny sat with Mandy, he had been pouring her drinks, loosing up her tongue, garnishing valuable facts from her. It had been his experience that the prettiest saloon girl had the most information, since she would more than likely be bedded down by most if not all the local big shots. Mandy was proving to be a fountain of knowledge as she told Johnny where Hamilton ran his operations, how many men he had, what had happened in Yuma recently, she was just telling him about the mines when Johnny's attention diverted from her.

Johnny had been keeping an eye on the street from the window and saw the barkeep coming back from across the street. He smirked as he noticed the condition of the man's pants, which only confirmed his suspicious of the precise caliber of this Milt Hamilton. He gauged the two armed men following behind the barkeep and figured they would be the two toughest he would have to deal with. Moreover, he didn't recognize either man but that didn't make any difference to him.

"Mandy, take the bottle, go on upstairs, wait for me. I'll be along directly and we can continue our conversation under...ahhh...more friendly circumstances."

"Sure thing, sweetie pie, ya want me ta undress and be ready for you?" Mandy purred as she too ran her hand up and down Johnny's inner thigh.

"Nope, don't start without me, now go on, get upstairs," Johnny pulled the chair out for her, handed her the bottle and glasses before giving her a hard slap on her rump that sounded like a report from a gun. "Don't come back down here, ya hear me girl?"

"Okay," she slurred as she headed towards the stairs, "Just don't take too long, I'm burning up with desires." He watched momentarily as she sashayed her hips back and forth in smooth practiced measure, turning at the bottom of the staircase to toss a smile over her shoulder at him, blowing him a kiss.

He grinned at her, waved her off and sat back down to wait for the arrival of the little parade headed for the batwings. He was the picture of steely cool, as the doors swung open.

Chapter 3

Johnny leaned back relaxed in his chair, watched with detached interest, striking the perfect poker face as Charlie pushed the batwing doors open, letting them fall back as he began side-stepping his way towards the bar. McHugh pushed the doors open, holding one for Day to walk thru. Johnny smirked at Charlie, held up his empty glass and turned it upside down, placing it down on the table top with a bang at the slinking man in mock acknowledgement of the barkeep's damp appearance. Johnny's left hand fingered his Winchester's stock as his eyes remained on the tall man stepping inside The Silver Jubilee.

He mumbled to himself, "Show time."

"Charlie, where in the hell are you going?" Day questioned the man as he started slinking away.

Charlie stopped side-stepping, clenched his jaw tight in a grim line; he closed his eyes before answering in a beaten voice, "Nowhere Mr. Pardee."

The barkeep scooted back towards the entryway in noticeable discomfort at the dampness of his coarse heavy piss-sodden pants which were chaffing the inside of his legs. He had died the death of a coward several times over in the course of a short time span this day. First on the receiving end of veiled threats from the ominous Johnny Madrid only to now be scorned and ridiculed relentlessly from the side he had been forced to join.

"Get a glass and a fresh bottle of whatever the kid is drinking. And it better be a clean glass Charlie. McHugh, keep an eye on Charlie and don't let anyone inside," ordered Day as he and Johnny both accessed the other's mettle, neither came up short on the other's guts and intensity levels.

Pardee unquestionably had experience on his side, while the youth had unflinching fortitude with an exterior assurance, bordering on youthful cockiness that "come what may" attitude that he would rise to the top of any given situation. Day's initial feeling was in total agreement with Hamilton's, Madrid needed to be brought down a peg or two. Question was would he be the man to do it or would the honor go to someone else?

Johnny inspected the tall, slim man, garbed in black with tinges of silver accenting his clothes. He figured the man to be about twenty-seven, could be a few years either side of that. Johnny leaned back, tipping his chair on the back two legs as he smiled. His grin as a rule worked to his advantage to offset his opponent's wariness. He reckoned it was working on his counterpart as the man approached him as one would walk around a sleeping snake...slowly and gradually.

Day reached his table, vigilant to the kid's composure, "Well, Johnny Madrid, you've got sand, boy, I'll give you that much."

Johnny smirked at the man, "Like I told your friend over there earlier, I ain't ya boy. Matter of fact, I ain't anybody's boy. Ya come over here ta tell me I've got sand? I told wet ass over there ta let Hamilton know I'm waitin' for him. Where's Hamilton?"

"Mr. Hamilton is a very busy man. He sent me to see what you want, Madrid."

"I don't believe I caught your name."

"I didn't toss it yet, name's Pardee."

"Day? Day Pardee?"

"Yup, that's right, Madrid, you heard of me then?"

"Yeah, I heard of ya, you're a gunfighter. You're pretty good too."

"Just like you, Madrid."

"Ahh, so you're heard of me then?"

"Sure Madrid, your name's been mentioned in a few border towns. You're growing yourself quite a reputation. Mind if I join you?"

Johnny looked at him with a look that could be deemed curiosity or even amusement in his eyes, "No, I don't mind. Tell me, Day, do ya mind being Hamilton's flunky? Ahhh...is your dry friend over there plannin' ta join us?" Johnny asked while from under the table he extended one leg to push the chair directly opposite of him out, all the while stroking his rifle with his fingertips.

"Only you and me, Johnny boy," Day said quietly, not wanting to make any movements that the boy would deem threatening. He had observed that the boy kept his left hand on his rifle, his other arm rested on the back of his chair in an offhandedly repose, not fooling Pardee in the slightest. He knew in an instant that either gun would fill the youth's hand and be called into action. "Best you listen close; I am not Hamilton's flunky, Johnny boy." Pardee evenly said as he sat down in the offered chair.

Charlie picked this time to arrive with a glass and bottle of tequila. He set them down on the table with a scowl, clueless that he had just interrupted a pivotal moment in time between the two gun hawks testing the other. For now only with words as they weighted those words for any dark meaning that underscored an impending calculated threat.

"Phewww, Charlie, you reek! Drag your stinking ass out of here. Go crawl into the nearest watering trough! Don't you have any shame?" Day said as he opened the bottle of tequila. He poured a drink, and then turned Johnny's glass upright to fill it. "Charlie, do it, now! McHugh escorted him out there and don't let him out of the trough until we're done in here."

McHugh grinned with evil malice as he pulled out his pistol and waved it at Charlie to move outside. He shoved Charlie in his back with a hard push, knocking him outside the batwings. McHugh kept pushing him until one shove knocked the barkeep into the trough with a loud splash.

Johnny watched but made no move to interfere, "Pardee, I understand you're a man of many accomplishments, many skills. If you're tryin' ta scare me, like old Charlie there, it ain't goin' ta happen."

Johnny leaned forward in his chair, with a hard glint in his blue eyes, "Pardee, I'm gonna tell ya one last time, I ain't a boy, your boy or anybody else's boy, haven't been a boy for a long time. I've learned my lessons, the hard way some would say. But I'm all done with schoolin'. These here guns are all I need ta know now. So if ya got something ta say, Day, then go on and say it. Otherwise if we're all done with our little pissin' contest, I have a warm and willingly little lady waitin' for me ta tend ta her needs upstairs. It ain't polite ta keep a lady waitin' too long."

Day nodded with grudging approval, as he stroked his chin, realizing that he was looking at a worthy opponent, one he wouldn't mind having on his team, "Drink up Madrid. You want to tell me just exactly what your business is here in Yuma?"

Johnny laughed, "Day what do most men want from the insides of a saloon? Wine, women and song, maybe an honest game or two of poker, chance ta win a grub stake. Those are the elixirs of our life ain't they, Pardee?"

"Well put for such a young man, John Madrid. So you're looking for your best shot, is that it then, Madrid?" Day drained his drink and noticed that Johnny hadn't touched his. He was a very smart boy.

"Yeah, Day, ya might say that...my best shot. Ya got a problem with that?"

"No, Madrid I don't have a problem. Fact of the matter, Johnny, maybe in a different place, a different time; we would be friends, real good friends, maybe even back-watching friends. Understand, Madrid that it's my boss who has a problem about you, which makes it my problem. You see, he's the one that doesn't want any pistoleros in Yuma, unless they're the ones he's paying to keep this town in line. That's what I do; make sure that the peace is kept. You shouldn't have called him out like you did, it made him nervous. He won't ever admit it, but you scared the crap out of the dandy."

Johnny chuckled, "Well, why not, it got the desired effect. I now know who does his biding and he knows I'm in town. Day, this saloon couldn't get anymore more peaceful. Hell, I already emptied it out for ya! Now if ya don't mind we can call this dance a draw. I'll head upstairs ta that little filly waitin' ta make me a happy man, if ya don't mind. Tell your boss, I'm interested in what he's paying. I've been lookin' for a peaceful town ta hang my hat for more than a day or two. This town suits my fancy, seems ta be a right quiet little place, where a man can enjoy all the benefits of wine, women and song, and the prospects of makin' some easy money. What more can a man need, Day?"

"John Madrid, you best make sure you don't press me. I'd hate to have to see which one of us would win the fight."

"Day, ya know that it's the Big Dog that always wins. Why don't ya check with Hamilton, see if he needs another pistolero, otherwise I'll be gone in a day or so. Let me know mañana...I've got something more pleasant ta press upstairs than ya, Pardee," Johnny said cheekily standing up he held his rifle, beaming at Pardee who remained seated.

Johnny sauntered to the staircase, pausing to look at Pardee who was watching him like a cat worrying at a mouse hole.

Johnny grinned, "Buenas noches, amigo," he saluted the man with the barrel of his rifle. With his eyes twinkling merrily he mounted the stairs with the fast eager gait of a randy stallion for the benefit of Pardee as he went off in search of his waiting and willing filly.

# # #

"Got to be Mandy he's heading for, can't see that impetuous kid bedding either of those other two whores. Shit, he reminds me of me at his age! He's a damn fool, but if he's as good as I've heard than he's damn clever too. Certainly knows how to play the game, held his own, too. Sonofabitch didn't even flinched," Day thought as he finished off another shot. "He was as unruffled as I've ever seen. Damn, not to even toss back a drink or two to settle any nerves. I'd rather have him on my side than against me."

Plowing through the batwings he watched as McHugh with one boot resting on the edge of the trough used it to push Charlie back under the water whenever he came up for air. The man was sputtering, making choking sounds.

"McHugh! Enough! Let's go," snapped Pardee.

"Shit, we was having some fun, right Charlie? Pardee, what up with this Madrid? I didn't hear any shots? He's leaving town, ain't he?"

"Not yet, he's interested in two things. Fast money and a fucking good time with Mandy. She can handle the latter part. I'll check with Hamilton, see if he's interested in hiring another gun. He'll go if not."

"You think he's as good as the stories about him?"

Day looked backwards towards the saloon, "McHugh, that kid is dangerous, seen that look once before...it was me giving it. He'll cut you down fastest than you can blink your eye. You best not lean on that boy...he'll lean right back. You'll be dead before you hit the ground."

"Pardee, I can handle myself. He best stays the hell out of my way."

"I promise you that it will be your funeral if you go against that kid. Come on, let's go find Hamilton. Let him know that Madrid's interested in working for him."

Charlie had been leaning over the side of the water trough spitting out water, coughing, trying to regain his breath before he slowly climbed out. He walked inside The Silver Jubilee, grabbed a bottle of his rotgut whiskey and slunk with heavy limbs to his back room, leaving a tell-tale trail of water to mark his direction. He sank to the floor on his knees in relief that his ordeal was done and that he was still alive. Charlie threw back his head and swallowed several long pulls on the bottle, sobbing knowing just how close he came to dying several times that day.

# # #

Johnny entered the hallway and bent his ear to each of the doors trying to figure out which room was Mandy's. He got lucky as he could hear traces of coupling coming from the first two doors, one on either side of the hallway. Johnny chuckled knowing that those two cowboys were giving the saloon girls a better than average ride if they were still at it. He wondered if they would thank him for their afternoon's pleasure if they hung around Yuma.

Johnny put his ear to the last door and heard nothing, he cracked it open then entered Mandy's room. He was more than relieved to see that the drinks he had plied her with had worked the second desired effect on her. Mandy was on the bed, fast asleep, delicately snoring. He was more than satisfied to discover that the girl's room overlooked Main Street, where he could keep his eyes on the activity; he drew back the curtains to watch.

Through the window he saw Pardee turn and look back in the direction of the saloon as he talked to McHugh but never shifted his eyes upward. Johnny chuckled; it had ceased to amaze him that people were habitually remiss in making themselves aware of their entire landscape. They only saw what was directly in front of them. He lost count of how many people had been unaware of their surroundings, little wonder so many of his opponents ended up in lonely graves. Day Pardee should have known better, being a professional. Johnny guessed he had lost his edge and Johnny swore to himself never to lose his own edge.

He stepped back over to the door, opened it a crack and listened as Charlie sloshed across the floorboards. Johnny heard the dragging of a bottle across the wooden countertop, a door open and close followed by the sobbing of a beaten man. He closed the door, locked it and put the ladder-back chair under the doorknob to secure the room tight from the hallway.

Grinning at the picture of Mandy, with her hair down, long auburn wavy tresses falling over her face and draped across her chest, some tucked into the cavity between her breasts. He watched in fascination as the twin peaks rose and fell with her even breathing. She had gone ahead and started without him by removing her green dress and shoes, which were carelessly dropped on the floor by the double wide brass bed. She was curled up with her knees drawn towards her hips, dressed in her undergarments, her corset displayed her curves, and her leggings were held up with garters just above her knees. The roundness of her bottom covered in a thin layer of white cotton beckoned Johnny to explore as he would. Johnny whistled in appreciation at her soft enticing curves, while he traced the girl's figure with his fingertips, he sighed, "Hell, she's sure is a pretty little thing."

Johnny watched her sleep for a few more minutes before moving back to the window in time to see Hamilton out in front of the barbershop along with his crew of five men mount their horses. He watched as they rode away from Yuma. He appreciated the fact that Mandy had such a good view of the street, overlooking both the east and west entrances of Yuma. He saw the cloud of dust as Hamilton's brunch rode off towards the west. Johnny couldn't believe how quiet the town had become for a Saturday afternoon; it was like he had stepped into a ghost town as regular folks had long since gone behind locked doors. There were no kids out on the street playing noisy games; very few horses were tied to hitching posts and no wagon traffic. It was a bit eerie.

Pulling a well-worn upholstered chair towards one of the two windows for a diagonal view, Johnny sat down to check his guns. He treated his weapons like they were an extension of his own body, wiping off imaginary dust from the smooth surfaces as he ran a towel from the washstand. He spun and twirled his pistol to check the action, relishing the weight and balance of the walnut-handled gun in his hand. He checked the Winchester over just as carefully, while reviewing the town below, watching for signs of life on the streets. Seeing who came into town and who went out of town. Johnny noticed that the few men he saw were not wearing any gun belts; none of the horses except his held a scabbard for a rifle. Johnny even at his young age had thought he had seen it all, but by far, Yuma was the oddest town he had every ridden into.

Sensing Mandy's eyes upon him, Johnny turned, "Hey there, Mandy. Rest well?"

She yawned, stretched her arms and legs like a cat sleeping and dreaming in a sunny spot before purring softly, "Johnny Madrid, I'm not asleep any longer. Why don't you come over here, keep a girl company? I'll show you how well I rested."

Johnny chuckled at her open invitation, stood up and placed his six-shooter under one pillow, his rifle along the wall next to the bed. He toed off his boots before climbing into the bed. Mandy reached over to unbutton his shirt while he stroked her arms, pushing long hair back from her face. He leaned over to give her lush lips a soft kiss, nibbling on them, probing for her tongue as his kiss became more intense, more demanding, their tongues touched as they savored each other's tastes and scents. She pushed and tugged at his shirt until it was off his back, flinging it over the side of the bed, his hands fumbled with the laces of her corset. He grumbled, "I hate these damn things."

# # #

Sheriff Crowley stood inside his office, looking out on his "town" from his door window; the window to his world had shrank noticeably smaller. He paced as he pondered what he could do, wondering if either Travis or Judge Whitmore had been successful with getting word to his friend, Val. It had been almost two months of waiting, watching as his town fell deeper and deeper into the clutches of Milt Hamilton. He wondered for what had to be the hundredth time if that gunslinger was sent or just wandered into town on his own accord.

He, along with a handful of townspeople saw what Hamilton and his men had done to Charlie. While Charlie had done what he had to do in order to survive, Owen couldn't condone the man turning his back on the town and throwing in with the likes of Hamilton. Now it seems Hamilton wasn't above humiliating even those who helped him. "Nothing but a low-down, two-timing, back-stabbing sonofabitch," he growled.

He stopped pacing and sat down at his desk, holding his head in his hands, wishing he had a gun or knew where he could get one. Sheriff Crowley sat there waiting, as the sun set in brilliant hues of crimson and gold stretching across the western horizon. Soon the night sky was dotted with thousands of twinkling stars as the crescent moon rose in the east. He didn't bother getting up from his chair, time had lost its meaning to him as the darkness took the place of the faded dusk bringing closure to another day in Yuma, where he felt less and less in control of anything.

He heard the activity on the street as Hamilton's miners came into town, looking for their daily rewards at the conclusion of another back-breaking day in the Hamilton mines, where they hauled out silver, ore, salt, coal and lately gold. One good thing with the arrival of night, the on-going earth shaking from the blasts of dynamite and nitro ceased as one by one miners came out of their tunnels and into Yuma to unwind.

He realized that someone had brought the street torches to life and they were casting flickering light and shadows on the miners walking from the cafe to The Silver Jubilee. He heard the raucous laughter of men who were drinking too much mingling with the off-tune piano playing at The Silver Jubilee as he wondered where the gunslinger had gotten too. His horse was still hitched to the front of the saloon, where he had left him hours earlier. No one from the town had since ventured to his door to tell or ask him anything.

Before Hamilton had come to town, Crowley would have been busy making his evening rounds and checking on the safety and well-being on his town, now he had nothing to do. He literally was a man without a town, a sheriff without a gun, a lost soul dammed for all eternity unless he got some help. But he wasn't giving up yet, there was still a glimmer of hope out there in the desert.

He turned quickly when he heard what sounded to be soft rapping at the back door. He listened and heard it again; more insistent, sharper rapping. He grabbed the keys and rushed to the door, placing an ear against the solid frame, he asked, "Who's out there?"

"Open up Crowley, it's me," said a baritone, male's voice at an unnatural level – just above a whisper, just below normal tones. "Come on, I don't have all night. Let me in."

Chapter 4

"Well, Pardee do you want to explain to me now why in the hell you didn't drive Madrid out of town, like I told you to do?" growled Hamilton. He was seated behind his desk, holding a short crop that he used to emphasize his words by striking the top of the smooth varnished surface.

"Mr. Hamilton, Madrid's looking to deal. He wants a job; earn some fast easy money, that's all."

"Did you happened to mention that I'm full up and don't require his services?" Milt snapped back.

"No sir, Mr. Hamilton. The way I see it, you want him on your side should there be any trouble with the miners or any of the town folk. He's damn good with his gun, bit on the cocky side but I can control him, groom him proper like to the ways of following orders. He's young and can learn his lessons – easy or hard."

"You believe you can groom him, do you?" Hamilton reflected upon Pardee, looking him sharply in the eye, pointed his crop at him, "You had better do just that or it will be you who answers for any complications that obstruct any of my deals. You understand, Pardee, completely understand?"

"Sure, Mr. Hamilton, I understand," answered Pardee, all the while fuming inside. How much he detested Milt Hamilton only he knew as Day did his utmost to maintain a strict no reveal poker face with the man. Having Johnny Madrid waltz into Yuma was a stroke of luck he thought, take the heat off of him as he made his own plans to take over running the operations. He figured that within six months time he'd be rich enough to get out of the business of hiring out his gun. Be his own boss, the big dog he always wanted to be, hire his own damn guns to follow his orders. Johnny Madrid was going to be his catalyst to getting rid of Milt Hamilton for him. Then he would take John Madrid on as his business partner or do away with him if he refused to go along with his tactics.

"Pardee, what do you plan on doing with Madrid?"

"I think it will be best if he stays in Yuma, acting as our point man, keeping the people in line. Hell, he's got Charlie scared shitless and he's already got Mandy bedding him. She'll keep him happy as long as she spreads those lone, lean legs of hers. He can run his game from The Silver Jubilee, while we keep a handle on the mining operations."

Hamilton mulled over the plan, "I want another man in town, keeping an eye on Madrid. Send McHugh in with the instructions that one wrong move on the part of Madrid, kill him. You got it Pardee? I want Madrid out on the street, not just bedding Mandy. Let him put fear into the hearts and souls of the good folks of Yuma along with my miners. Tell him to practice with his gun, shooting targets, every day. Make him earn his ten dollars a day, plus all the bullets he needs to put on his show of force."

"Sure, Mr. Hamilton, I've got you. I'll ride back in with McHugh and let Madrid know he's in and what we require him to do."

"Oh and Pardee, should Madrid screw up, I'll personally shoot you myself."

"Understood, Mr. Hamilton completely understood. Don't you fret yourself over Johnny Madrid, I can handle that boy," smirked Day as he rose from his chair and left Milt to play King Midas with his accounting books.

Day had stolen a good look at one of the journals. He was amazed at the amount of money Milt was raking in from just one of the silver mine operations. He could only guess what the combined net of all the mines might be. Yep, old Milt sure would be surprised the day Pardee took over operations. For now he was content to let Hamilton earned the disrespect of the miners and the town, he was doing such a sterling job of it. Far be it from Day to step on his toes and interfere...yet.

He and McHugh mounted their horses and rode back to Yuma. Day told McHugh his plan, which was to watch and observe Madrid only. No one was going to challenge Madrid in a gun fight, or ambush him. He wanted Madrid on his side not against him. If McHugh double-crossed him, he'd kill him. There was no honor among thieves and thugs in this operation...just take what you can get and leave the rest behind...and Day had big plans for John Madrid...big plans.

# # #

Johnny yawned as he lazily traced his finger over Mandy's bare skin, making goose bumps appear on her silky, milk white skin. She opened her eyes and smiled at her bed companion, feeling quite satiated, this was one young buck who knew how to make a girl glow with happiness. He had proven to be gentle and accommodating to her needs, while at the same time able to keep his pistol from rapid firing only once then jamming up, quite unlike other encounters. They only wanted a quick fuck and were done with her; some were not able to get their sausage stiff to have their jollies. Here this boy had pleasured both of them, making sure she was satisfied before fulfilling his own carnal needs. He was a diamond in the rough, a rare treat for her.

She sighed with sensual pleasure as his fingers reached down, stroking her until she felt her desires mount again. "Oh, Johnny, that feels sooooo good," she purred as she opened her legs wide to give him more access to the hidden charms of her flesh.

"Ya like that, do ya?" he asked with a wicked twinkle in his startling blue eyes as his fingers continued to probe her feeling his own needs rise, springing to life with a will of their own.

"Mmmmm," she replied, grinning lasciviously. Mandy reached up to pull his head down to hers and kissed him, nibbling on his lower lip, pulling on it then stopping as Johnny's fingers hit pay dirt and she moaned with deep pleasure. "Ohhhh...ohhh...ohhhhhh... Oh my God! Johnny, please...please…now...please! Oh my God!"

Johnny didn't need to be asked twice, sliding Mandy underneath him, he mounted her. His quick but controlled thrusts made Mandy shiver and moan, calling on God even more as he pleasured the girl. The thought flashed in his head as he wondered why girls called on God at a time like this, he didn't see him in the room and he knew it was all him pushing the ladies into wild frenzies, not God. Oh well, he thought as he kept thrusting until he sensed her final climax as her silky thighs gripped him tight he released himself in an earth-shaking urgency. Both covered in sweat, hearts pounding, they fell back in the wild disarray of sheets, pillows, undergarments (hers, not his as Mandy discovered none under his tight leather britches), breathing hard and heavy.

"Oh wheee, Mandy, that was some ride ya gave me!" he gasped as he continued breathing hard.

"Me? Johnny, I was about to say the same thing to you. Oh my!" exclaimed Mandy as she rolled to her side to plant a kiss on Johnny. "I don't think I can walk anymore!"

Johnny rolled to his side to face her, smirking, "Oh really? Hell, Mandy we only did it what two times."

Mandy giggled loudly at this, "No silly, try six!"

"Well, Miss Mandy I was tryin' ta be a gentleman and not keep tally. Come here ya little minx."

"What for?"

"For this," he leaned in close and gave her soft kisses on her eyelids, the tip of her nose, nibbled gently on her ear lobes, then her neck, as his fingers and thumbs delicately pressed against her face, he gave her one long deep kiss, before noticing two big tears rolling down her cheeks. He tenderly wiped them away with his thumbs.

"Hey now, what's with the tears?"

"Johnny, no one has ever treated me the way you have tonight. Normally, it's like I'm a piece of meat to be gnawed at and then tossed aside, like yesterday trash. You've made me feel special, like a lady."

"Ya are special, Mandy. No one should treat another person like that. As long as I am in town, you'll be treated with respect and dignity or they'll have ta answer ta me. I promise ya that, Mandy, no one treats my girl poorly."

"Your girl?" She smiled at her gallant gunslinger, giving him a tight hug. "Are you hungry Johnny? I sure could go for some food."

"Me too," he agreed getting up from the tossed bed. "Here ya stay put. I'll go see what I can rustle up." He leaned over to retrieve his pants from the floor as Mandy watched in breathless amazement at the lean, glowing skin of his buttocks, the rippling muscles as his motions made them taut then relaxed. He stood to hitch his pants up over his round mounds, turning to find that Mandy was watching him with big eyes. He pulled his shirt on and her breath caught as his muscles flexed across his chest that was as smooth as his buttocks had been. She loved that his skin was golden bronzed all over, sighing deeply at the vision before her.

"What's that for?"

"Just admiring the view, Johnny, you have such a beautiful body. A girl can't help but notice that you're tan all over," she giggled, "And I do mean all over!"

He reached over and pulled her to her knees on the bed, looking her up and down, as she unabashed did not attempt to cover her body from his smiling appraisal. "Seems ta me, miel that ya don't have a lick of sun showing anywhere on your pretty body. Don't know that I've ever seen someone so pearly white before as ya. Not complainin' only admirin' the view."

"Okay Johnny, turnabout's fair play! Now will you stop gawking at me and go get this girl some food? I swear I won't be able to do another thing without something to fill me."

Johnny laughed as he finished buttoning his shirt, tucking it in, pulling on his boots, "Though I already filled ya up, girl."

"Not that kind..." she started but ended as Johnny planted another kiss on her mouth and caressed her naked skin. She moaned softly, jumping when Johnny's hand playfully smack her rump.

"Ya got a fine bottom there too, Mandy. Lock this door and don't let anybody back inside, except for me."

She grinned at him as she sauntered to the door in all her glory, "Only you, Johnny, but hurry back."

He gave her one more kiss then exited her room, closing the door behind him, waited to hear the key turn in the lock before he went downstairs.

# # #

At the jail house, Sheriff Crowley unlocked his back door to let his visitor in. He stood back in amazement at who was at his door, before ushering them all inside, poking his head outside for a quick look around to see if anyone was watching the doorway. When he didn't see anybody lurking about, he shut the door, bolting it tight before turning to his visitors.

"What in the hell is going on here?" He stood shocked at seeing the group of people in front of him. "Did anyone see you? Why did y'all come here? Don't you know that Hamilton will kill each and every one of you?"

"Sheriff, we had to come back, this is our town and no one is going to drive us away," replied Travis Perkins, the former newspaper editor. Only now he looked different, his hair had been shorn close to his head, making him look bald. On closer look, Crowley noticed that even his eyebrows had been shaved off, which gave his face the look of one who is constantly surprised. Travis was holding tight onto a large carpetbag that appeared to be heavy as he was using both hands and sweating profusely.

"Judge Whitmore, Mrs. Whitmore, aren't you two taking a big risk coming back here? Sheriff Crowley asked as he looked at them. He too was holding onto a large carpetbag that looked just as heavy as Travis's bag.

"Same risk as you are by staying put, sheriff, unarmed," said Judge Whitmore, his wife stood close by him. "We've brought reinforcements." He put his carpetbag down on the floor and opened it up. Inside were several pistols and multiple boxes of ammunition. "Figured you could use these..."

Just then there was another soft knock on the door, "Open up, Crowley," whispered another voice.

"Now what?" asked the sheriff, looking in amazement at the others, "Did anyone see you come into town?"

"Just open the door, sheriff," said Mary.

"Yes, ma'am."

He threw back the bolt to open the door, quickly pulled the grinning man inside, and checked again for any observers overlooking the proceedings at the jail house back door. Throwing the bolt back into place, he turned to slap the other man's back, whose arms were filled holding a dozen Winchester rifles.

"Val Crawford, you old dog, 'bout time you showed up!"

Everyone was grinning, talking in whispers, telling their stories, asking and answering questions. Val whistled sharply to get everyone's attention. "Shut up, we ain't makin' any sense jabberin' away like jaybirds. One at a time, one at a time. But first, Crowley ya got any coffee?"

"Nope, not right now."

"Show me where ya keep your things; I'll put a fresh pot on. Here take these Winchesters, will ya? These are loaded so put them in your rifle rack for safe keepin' for now."

Mrs. Whitmore's hand flew to her mouth, she quickly said, "Mr. Crawford, why don't you let me make the coffee, while you gentlemen sit down. You have much to talk over."

"Ya don't make it strong enough ta suit me, Ma'am is why," he grumbled.

"Well, Mr. Crawford, you make it too strong to suit the rest of us. How about it if I just add extra grounds to yours? Allow the rest of us normal coffee." The petite woman told Val as she bore holes into him. Her recent experiences had taught her one thing, stand up for herself. She felt empowered knowing that the most of the others present had been victimized as much as she. She prayed that they understood the importance of standing together as one.

The group moved from the back of the jail to the front, where Sheriff Crowley placed the rifles on his desk, stepping quickly he to pull the window shades closed. Someone struck a match to light the lamps inside the office. Mrs. Whitmore made coffee; after her husband, stoked the pot-belly stove to life. Travis brought the stools from the two cells to place in front of the sheriff's desk. Val pulled ammunition from the carpetbags, loaded the six guns with the practiced skill and ease of one comfortable with handling firearms. He tossed a gun belt to Owen who gladly put it on, accepting a loaded gun, he felt much better than he had in a long time.

"Feels good, Val."

"I'll bet. Owen, just don't go outside this office with that strapped on...yet."

"When?"

"Soon."

"Coffee's ready, gentlemen," said Mrs. Whitmore, filling cups for each man.

Val took his cup, grumbled, "Still ain't strong enough, ma'am."

"Why Val Crawford, why don't you just chew on some of those coffee beans to get the flavor if you need it stronger," she said. Surprising her husband who stared at her in shock and awe at the transformation of his wife, along with the other men who were accustomed to her being a unassuming, gentle polite lady.

"Yes, ma'am, believe I will do just that," groused Val.

"Gentlemen, I believe you have more important matters to discuss than coffee," snapped Mary. "Such as how are you going to take back our town? Did Johnny Madrid get into town yet?"

The Judge continued gawking at her, as did the others.

Chapter 5

Johnny peered over the upstairs landing, there weren't any patrons gathered in the bar yet, only Charlie with his back to the room. The fearsome gunslinger mounted the banister railing, side-straddled and pushed off. This was one treat he never tired of as he rode the banister downwards; he loved the sound of the slide and the feel of the ride.

Charlie heard a baffling noise, cocked his head to listen as Johnny slide down the railing. He turned around locating where the source of swooshing sound, combined with ringing of spurs followed by a loud clump of boots striking the wooden floorboards. Charlie saw the famed gunslinger grin like a mischievous kid who had just found an unguarded cookie jar, as Johnny adjusted his low slung rig to his leg. Johnny strutted across the room to stand in front of Charlie, who quickly ducked his eyes down, wiping off the top of the bar in an effort to look busy.

"I like the sound," he explained as he shrugged his shoulders and smirked.

"What sound?"

"Never mind, Charlie, what time does this place get lively?" he questioned softly.

"What?"

"Charlie, are ya hard of hearin'? When does the action start?" he asked, giving Charlie an intense look as if the man might be dense, not deaf.

"The miners drift in around seven, place gets busy soon after, clears out by three thereabouts, Mr. Madrid."

"Thanks. Next question, where can ya get me and Mandy some decent grub?"

"Down the street, there's a cantina and a cafe, both are fair to middling."

Johnny pulled a gold coin from the pocket of his tight pants, pushing it across the bar's worn but smooth surface towards Charlie, "That's for the grub, amigo that I want ya ta go fetch us. Where's the livery stable?"

"Next to the stage depot at the edge of town, that way," he pointed the opposite direction of the food.

"Who runs it?"

"Swenson, Oscar Swenson."

"Charlie, glad ta see ya got a lot smarter since the last time I saw ya," winked Johnny. "Now don't disappoint me with gettin' the food. Beans and tamales suit me, but get the little lady a nice steak and 'taters...she looks like she could stand a little meat on her bones if she's ta keep up with me."

Charlie dropped the bar towel to pick up the gold coin, "Whose goin' watch the bar while I'm gone?"

"Charlie, do ya see anybody in here yet? Besides me and ya? Ya got time on your hands until the crowd gets here. We both have places ta go. I'll be back directly. Shut the front door. It'll be okay...I promise ya," smirked Johnny as he pushed outside the batwings giving Charlie a thumbs-up. Charlie dropped his shoulders in defeat wondering when this day was going to be over so he could put the blankets over his head to forget about it.

Johnny unhitched his pinto and gave Apache's nose a brisk rub, before mounting and riding towards the livery stable. He felt every eye watching him as he rode with his right hand resting on his hip near his gun belt. At the livery, Johnny jumped down and pulled open the door taking his horse inside.

Johnny looked down the street as he heard riders coming in hard from the west. He saw Pardee and McHugh dismount in front of The Silver Jubilee, tying their hard breathing mounts to the rail. He wasn't surprised to see them so soon in town. He figured that Milt Hamilton was more guarded than he originally estimated. He would take that into account making his plans. He watched as they stared at the shut door, Pardee twisted the knob, banged on the door before peering in the front windows. Obviously confused that no one was inside the two exchanged words before moving in opposite directions searching for Charlie. Johnny grinned at their staring through the other shop windows before he closed the livery door.

Johnny waved off the grizzled old man who appeared from the back of the livery stable. The man had to be eighty if he was a day, wearing a sweat-stained faded green shirt with a heavy leather apron that had multiple stains running the length of the garment, it looked like it had been put to use and was probably as old as its owner. Johnny took his time caring for Apache, he unsaddled him, took long measured brush strokes as he curried Apache's coat, and then got him a bucket of fresh water along with a bucket of oats. Johnny tossed a silver dollar at Oscar, "Check his shoes for me, will ya Oscar?"

"Ja, sure Mr. Madrid," nodded the little old man as he pocketed the coin. "I check and fix for you if they need it."

"Thanks, Apache's a good feller. A man's got ta take care of his horse." Johnny wasn't a bit surprised that by now his name had been banter about the town. This was good; let the townsfolk know his name so they would stay out of his way so he could take care of the business that had brought him to this dance.

"Ja, I'll make sure he's okay."

Johnny gave Apache a final pat before heading outside. He saw Charlie heading back to The Silver Jubilee; in his hands he carried a covered tray. Within seconds both Day Pardee and McHugh fell in stride alongside Charlie. Johnny walked faster towards the trio, his saddlebags thrown over his left shoulder, his right hand loose, uninhibited as he closed in on the group.

Anyone watching closely would have noticed that Johnny had a pre-dance ritual as he first flexed his fingers wide then clinched his fingers into a tight fist before tapping his fingers once... twice ... three ... times against his leg before repeating the process while he walked. Blood circulation to his gun hand was critical for his survival. Since Johnny had developed this tactic to ready his gun hand, it had not failed him.

"Where you been, Charlie," prodded Pardee. "You know Mr. Hamilton doesn't like The Silver Jubilee's doors closed on Saturday. He wants the miners kept drunk, humped and happy."

"Mr. Madrid...he sent me for food. I've only been gone a few minutes," he stammered. "It's still early...there's nothing wrong is there?"

"What the hell! Charlie, are ya goin' spoon feed him next," snarled McHugh.

Charlie felt beads of sweat forming on his brow as his head turned from one gun hawk to the other, a few rolled down into his eyes as he blinked, "Yes... no... yes... I mean... no... just went for food, that's all."

Johnny bounced up onto the boardwalk in front of the men, "Pardee, ya lookin' for me again so soon?" He turned to Charlie, "Charlie take that up to Miss Mandy will ya. I'll be there directly."

Charlie looked at him, gulped once...twice. Pardee nodded his approval before he would move. He didn't stop to turn around but carefully balanced the tray as he opened the front door and put the tray down on the nearest table. Grabbing the bar towel from the top of the bar where he had earlier left it, he wiped at the trickles of sweat that started their downward descent towards his sweat drenched face. Charlie's heart was pounding inside his chest as he first heard then felt his stomach rumbling as it was performing flip-flops signaling he better made all due haste for the outhouse.

Charlie ran for all he was worth while he tried to keep his butt cheeks clinched and his stomach from tossing its contents. He ran out the back door to the privy but got there too late as his bowels relaxed, releasing themselves as he pulled the door opened. For the second time that day he messed himself, only this time it was worst as both his bowels and his stomach raged a battle to see which could empty out faster.

# # #

In the meantime Day and McHugh were holding court on the street with Johnny. They were all very much aware of eyes peering at them from behind doors and curtains as they stood close together. There was no danger of anyone overhearing the conversation as their voices were controlled, low, meant for their ears only.

Day stood shoulder to shoulder with McHugh as both men stood taller than the compact younger man, "Madrid, Mr. Hamilton is willing to give you a go. But you better not play any games as there are conditions."

"Day, I don't like the sound of that. I don't take ta orders or conditions very well."

"Madrid, either you follow orders or mount up and ride the hell out of Yuma. Don't plan on coming back either. Comprende, mi amigo?" Day said while Sean made a malicious face towards the youth and moved his hand towards his gun. Day reached out to stop the man from continuing with what he started.

"I wouldn't if I were ya," Johnny said softer, lower with the elements of danger, trouble behind his words towards the heavy-set man. "Ya think you're faster than me...well then go ahead and push me. Ya'll find out for a second maybe two if you're lucky. Otherwise, ya better get your damn hand away from your fuckin' gun."

Sean dropped his hand but his face was twisted as he snarled, "One of these days Madrid, one of these days, we'll find out which one of us is faster."

Johnny smiled audaciously at the husky man, "Yeah, one of these days." He shifted his eyes back to Pardee, but kept the other man in his peripheral vision, "Okay Day, what are my orders? Bust a few heads? Scare the town sheriff? Shoot-up buildings? Collect pay-offs?"

Day smiled at the shorter man, "No, John, nothing like that. Mr. Hamilton wants your presence known. He wants you to bring fear to the townspeople and the miners to keep them in line, too. No property damaged, leastwise not yet. You get yourself some target practice over at the livery stable, draw in some crowds to watch, impress the folks, put on a regular sharp shooting show. Betcha that little filly you're riding will appreciate seeing how well you handle that other loaded gun of yours. Mr. Hamilton will keep you in bullets."

"That's it? Nothin' else?" drawled Johnny as he scratched his chin reflectively.

"Mr. Hamilton doesn't need anything else for the time being. Bide your time, keep your nose clean; bang Mandy until you're blue in the face for all I care. Not a bad job. Just be ready for trouble, if Mr. Hamilton or me give you any direct orders, you follow them, no questions asked. If you don't agree to these terms, be gone first thing come morning, John Madrid."

Johnny looked at Day and then over at McHugh, he pointed his thumb towards the stocky man, "Where does he figure in all of this?"

Day smirked as he clapped his hand to Johnny's shoulder, "Well, now he's going be your new best friend."

"What for? I don't need anybody watchin' guard over me."

"Then, John Madrid, deal's off. You're the new man around these parts, makes you the low man on the totem pole, no matter how good you are with that gun. So you decide, but better make it quick, if you're in or out."

Johnny looked at McHugh who had an evil grin plastered across his revolting mug, belly laughing at the circumstances. Johnny wrestled with calling the whole thing off but knew he couldn't as he had already given his word elsewhere. Releasing a sigh he said with a stone, cold, hard look at McHugh, "Pardee, I'm in but I am warning ya, this bastardo gives me any mierda maldita (damn shit), I will plug his sorry ass so full of holes, his mierda will find new ways ta escape. Not that it will do him much good. Comprende, mi amigo?" he tossed back at the gun hawk.

"Looks like we have an agreement," grinned Day. "How about a drink, partner?"

"Sure, Day, why the hell not?"

The trio entered The Silver Jubilee where Johnny quickly noted that the food tray was sitting on a poker table. Charlie had disappeared once more.

"Day, I'm takin' this upstairs. I'll be down in a few minutes," drawled Johnny as he picked up the tray, balancing it with his left hand. "You might want ta check on Charlie, he left a trail. Looks like ya scared the crap outta him."

Day stared at the floorboards, and said, "You know Madrid, how about a drink another time, think maybe I'll head on back to Hamilton's. McHugh, find Charlie. Get him in here to clean up this mess before the miners hit the tables. Madrid, why don't you and Mandy enjoy the night, tomorrow you're on Mr. Hamilton's payroll. You better be out on that street bright and early earning your keep. Adios, mi amigo."

Johnny paused at the base of the stairs; he gave Pardee a nod along with a quiet, "Adios" before climbing the stairs. At the landing he glanced down to verify that Pardee had indeed departed The Silver Jubilee, as the swinging batwing doors came to a creaking halt, "Needs oiling," he thought, "Dead giveaway."

Johnny took note that McHugh was staring up at him with a look unadulterated hate, contempt shining deeply in his eyes, complete with a villainous scowl etched across his mouth. Johnny noted that McHugh was stroking the butt of his gun a bit too. "He's one I'd play poker with. Easy pickings ta win his money, givin' up his tells ain't a smart thing," thought Johnny.

Johnny stared back with cool, calm, deadly detachment, his blue eyes icy cold, unwavering with a silent taunt to the man that had unnerved many other foolish souls who had attempted to unravel him in the hopes of killing the young gunslinger. Without a doubt in his mind, Johnny knew that this man meant him mortal damage. He'd bear watching. Both held their stares for what others would have perceived an eternity, but in reality were slightly under a minute. McHugh's dark brown eyes wavered for a quick blink. Johnny grinned at the man, "See ya!" Under his breath he added, "Joda usted, el perdedor" (Fuck you, loser.)

"Open up Mandy," he directed at the closed door. Mandy must have been standing nearby as she fumbled with the key in the lock, pulling the door open towards her. Standing by the door she let Johnny into the room then shut and locked the door.

Johnny set the tray down on the bed, that Mandy had smoothed the sheets and cover, even plumped the pillows. He tossed his saddlebags in the chair. Johnny looked at Mandy, "Food might be cold by now, had a few delays be..."

Mandy flung herself at Johnny, tossed her arms around his neck, griped tightly and kissed him. She kissed him with enough passion and longing to make Johnny think they had been apart for years, not a mere hour's time. Before he knew it, his back was against the wall with her pressing tightly into him, alternating demanding kisses to his mouth, his neck, his lower ear lobes, to his cheeks. Johnny's hands found their way to caressing her soft, inviting breasts that were milky white with little buds of roses. Soon his head dropped to lick and stimulating the rosy buds to spring to life as his tongue softly licked at them.

Hearing her moan with growing pleasure was gratifying to him, but then he heard her stomach growling from what he would guess had to be a different hunger that protested more boisterously than her moaning. He lifted his head to her mouth and gave her one long, deep kiss as their tongues explored before pushing her back away from him.

"Hey, enough! Food first, your stomach gave ya away Mandy. Ya are little more than skin and bones. Ya need something in there," he softly patted her stomach where her wrapper had fallen open, marveling at the smooth, silky softness, he fingered her belly button, moving downwards towards her privates that were on display. He found that he had to pull his glaze away from her, sighing with his own rising desires that for now would have to wait as his stomach began growling along with hers.

Johnny squeezed her round firm buttocks as him smiled at her, "More later, Mandy. I'm hungry too, let's eat."

They sat crossed-legged in the middle of the bed eating their food, offering the other bites to the other. Mandy poured each a shot glass of the tequila to wash down the meal and gave them each a refill when their plates were empty. During the course of their meal, sounds from downstairs drifted up as the player piano was turned on, Bella's and Rosa's doors opened and shut, followed by creaking bed springs in the universal dance of copulation that had commenced, the night had begun.

Johnny rose from the bed, looked from the window to see miners drifting towards The Silver Jubilee for their evening's entertainment. He felt the warmth of Mandy as she came to stand behind him, embracing his solid body with her slight frame, "Come back to bed, Johnny. I have more ways to nourish your body."

Johnny pulled the curtains together noting that other than the miners, no one else was out on the street. He wondered where McHugh was hiding. Having a shadow would be problematic for him unless he could shake him. But for now he had something more rewarding to keep him occupied until later.

# # #

At the sheriff's office Val, Owen, Travis and the Honorable Mr. and Mrs. Whitmore were seated around the desk patiently waiting as the night droned on. The only sounds were the occasional scraping of chair legs, the shuffling of shoe and boot leather against the wooden floor planks and the sipping of coffee. No one was said anything as they waited and watched the clock. A few clandestine trips to the outhouse behind the sheriff's office were made as the bottomless coffeepot kept the hot brew pouring to keep the night guard alert and awake.

The sounds from The Silver Jubilee drifted in as the miners drank, and lost to the house their wages in a never ending process of working all week to only hand their money right back to the man they worked for. They might as well put it on a silver platter and returned it to him had they understood what was happening.

Still the group sat, holding their vigil as the seconds ticked into minutes, the minutes into hours, waiting for The Silver Jubilee to settle down for the night. "Actually," thought Mrs. Whitmore, "the early hours of the Sabbath was when the town would finally rest, all except them as they continued their waiting and watching. All their hopes and plans depended upon the young gunslinger they patiently waited for.

Chapter 6

Johnny lifted his head and shifted his spot in the rumpled bed, the aftermaths of his and Mandy's rowdy romping during the wee hours of the night. He looked at the sleeping girl, gazing with admiration at her now tranquil form as he smirked recalling her harmonizing with him "tit for tat" he thought, as they rode the hours away in reciprocated accord and mutual pleasure. Johnny yawned, stretching his arms over his head in the afterglow of his achieving pure sexual satisfaction.

Easing himself from the bed, vigilant not to disturb her slumbers or make the bed springs squeak from the removal of his naked body. The only adornments on his lean body were a golden chain where at the end a gold medallion hung, shimming as its smooth surface found a light source from outside the open window. He fingered the new weight he felt on his right wrist. Looking down to wrist, his left fingers rolled the beaded necklace Mandy had slipped from her neck while she rode astride him, smoothly rocking back and forth as he pleasured her and she him, building and maintaining their gratification.

Johnny's hands had been busy caressing her smooth skin, cupping her sweetly soft swaying breasts as she enjoyed her bareback ride. Mandy grinned as she unclasped from her alabaster long neck her prized possession – a beaded necklace. She looped it three times around his wrist to fit just so, to not slipped off. She proclaimed that it bonded them together even when they weren't, well actually together, as they were in that moment of time. Fast, powerful bucking soon ensued as the coupling reached new heights before Mandy crashed against Johnny's chest after the frenzy ride completed. They were both breathing intensely from their exertions. Neither one complained to the other as they snuggled into a relaxed sleep.

Johnny felt the round firmness of the glass beads knowing that he would savor that moment as the beads would always remind him of Mandy's assets. The blue beads matched the tint of Mandy's eyes, the white beads her opaque skin and the red-orange beads the shade of her hair. The round firmness of the beads was like Mandy's other fine features, her breasts and her rump. The beads felt cool against his skin and he was pleased that they fit fine on his wrist; it wouldn't have done for them to slide, interfering with his gun hand in his line of work.

Moving with the dexterity of a cat on the prowl for his next meal, Johnny donned his scattered clothes, slipped into them as he kept his eyes on Mandy. She moaned delicately, shifting position in the bed, dangling a willowy leg over the side of the bed, her long tresses draped down her back, covering a tiny birthmark, almost the perfect shape of a butterfly, on her right shoulder.

Johnny leaned over to study the small of her back as his fingertips, deftly traced the dimples right above her curved bottom. She moaned again as her tongue licked her lips, in her sleep induced state she nibbled on her lower lip as Johnny's index finger circled her back dimples. Mandy trembled slightly at Johnny's feather-like touch to her skin brought goose bumps to the silky surface.

Shaking his head, Johnny stopped, wishfully wanting to prolong his perusal of her feminine curves, as he felt a familiar tightness stirring in his loins he grudgingly turned away from her. He ruefully smiled as he strapped on his rig, adjusting the buckle to suit his frame, forcing the carnal lust from his brain as he got down to the business at hand and the purpose that brought him to Yuma. Stepping noiselessly to the window Johnny scrutinized the street from his vantage point for activity.

Flickers of light danced outside a number of buildings, reflections bounced off windows and he confirmed that there wasn't a soul roving about seeing that it was a quarter to four. The Silver Jubilee had long since locked-up after the last cluster of miners stumbled drunkenly down the street on shaky legs, singing "I dream of Jeannie with the light brown hair..."

Each of Bella's and Rosa's last clientele had clump down the stairs nearly an hour earlier after Johnny thought neither of their beds could stand anymore stress. The springs certainly got a workout tonight as miner after miner came upstairs for their fifteen minutes of glory. Grinning wickedly, he reflected, a bit like the pot calling the kettle black. So be it, he was enjoying the ride while it lasted.

Johnny picked up his hat and adjusted it to his slicked-back raven hair, grabbing his boots from the floorboards he raised the window enough to ease out. He tugged his boots on then crept along the balcony to the side stairwell, cautiously looking for his shadow, McHugh, before descending the stairs. At ground level, Johnny placed his back against the wall to stay in the shadows of The Silver Jubilee as he rounded his way to the back entrance.

So far, so good he thought while his eyes canvassed the darkness for any activity. He all but stepped on a scurrying rat that he disturbed, making him jump back drawing his pistol at the unexpected motion. He holstered his firearm after getting a look at the extended tail and backend of the vermin that found a hidey-hole in an overturned barrel.

Turning the corner of the saloon, Johnny quicken his pace as he kept to the shadows making his way to the back door of the sheriff's office. All the while Johnny remained guarded, alert to his surroundings, but the town was fast asleep after the miners had departed the area to snooze away their dregs of a night of drunken abandonment and whoring.

The decent hard-working, put upon townsfolk had long since secured themselves behind locked doors and shuttered windows. In the distance, down near the river Johnny's sharp ears heard the mournful baying of a coyote, searching either for a mate or food. Further customary night sounds were heard, the chirping of crickets, bull frogs' low croaking, and the flapping of wings high overhead, as Johnny steadfastly moved towards his objective. Johnny guessed the flapping could be a night owl or even flock of crows in quest of a late night meal.

Reaching his own target, Johnny rapped quietly twice paused for the count of five before tapping three times, the prearranged signal with his old comrade Val. Val Crawford, was more than an amigo or an acquaintance to Johnny, he was the man who to a degree raised Johnny when he wasn't anything but a snot-nose kid. A kid with an attitude that needed adjusting, a chip on his shoulder that was the size of a granite boulder that needed knocking off and a heavy sorrowful heart that required healing from nurturing.

# # #

Time and distance dimmed some of the hurt after Val had given Johnny a place to stay following his mother's murder. Johnny had instantaneously, by impulse shot the bastard gringo that had taken his mother from him, but not without filling the young boy with hatred towards gringos with a vow to avenge his mother's savage death by one day putting a bullet through the heart of his father, Murdoch Lancer for driving his mother away.

Johnny had been forced to run away from the Ciudad Juarez, a small, dirty border town, after the gun shots had brought the ruales to investigate what had taken place in the minuscule hut that Johnny called home. He had managed to remove the small gold St. Christopher's medallion from his mother's neck, as tears ran down his cheeks, the warmness of the metal burned against his chest as he climbed out the back window and escaped from the screaming ruales banging on the door, crashing it open as he turned and ran.

This was the first and last time Johnny ran away from trouble.

Although at that point in time Johnny didn't realize it, call it what you will, lady luck, kismet, destiny, fate or chance, whatever it was shone down on the young boy days later. The irony of the cards that would be dealt to the young boy ultimately would be lost on Johnny until a later point in time when Johnny would better comprehend. In the meantime, Johnny tired; grimy and hungry wandered aimlessly in the blistering sun, making tracks for God knows where before he crossed into the United States near El Paso, Texas.

Johnny collapsed on the fifth day on his own, tired, thirsty, dirty, hungry and lost to his surrounding environment. This was when the boy's cards were dealt. A lone rider, Val Crawford, stumbled upon the young lad after his horse nearly stepped on the undersized mound of dirt in the middle of the trail. Johnny was curled up into a tight ball, clutching the Colt Navy .36 caliber pistol in his small hands. His previous semi-white peon pants and shirt blended into the dirt, were little more than filthy rags. When Val dismounted from Cochise to check on the bundle sprawled before him, the reeking stench of the boy made Val draw back in disgust, waving his hand at the fetid odor.

Holding his bandana to his nose as a buffer Val roughly shook the boy awake. Johnny's eyes expressed a shocked look of terror at being caught; he raised the pistol in trembling hands at the man.

Val gruffly grabbed the gun from his hands, groused, "Listen ya little Mexican pissant, don't ya ever dare draw a gun on me again, less ya want ta meet ya maker!" For good measure he cuffed the rag-muffin alongside his head as he grabbed him by the forearm, bringing him to his feet. Val tucked the pistol into the back of his pants' waistband, "Ya got a name, pissant?"

Johnny glared at the barking, towering man, who needed a shave and a haircut, looked more like a skeleton in his ill-fitting clothes. There was a hard edge along his dark eyes glowering down at the boy

"¡joda lejos, bastardo! (Fuck off, bastard!) "¡Déme atrás mi arma, ano!" (Give me back my gun, asshole!).

Val still holding Johnny tilted back his head to hardily laugh at the boy, who looked at him in bewilderment. Johnny had not expected that reaction, he figured that the gringo must comprehend Spanish, which for some reason made him angry. He reared back and kicked his bony barefoot towards Val's kneecap for all he was worth. Regrettably for Val, the boy missed and the force of his kick hit Val squarely in his groin, momentarily stunning the older man, who released his hold on Johnny. Johnny made a grab for Val's pistol and almost made it before his wrists were clamped together in one hand of the now very pissed-off man.

"¡Ya pequeño hijo de puta!" (Ya little sonofabitch!) He yanked Johnny over his knee and gave him a few solid slaps to the struggling boy's squirming rump.

"Settle down before I blister ya ass good and proper! "¡Hormiga de orina!" (Pissant!), he added, as his hard hand found the upended bottom of the struggling boy. Johnny's arms and legs continuing flaying up and down, side to side as he tried to escape the man's firm grip on him.

A few more solid whacks with the threat of a belt blistering got Johnny to stop fighting, but not his shouting, "Deje van de mí ano!" he yelled first in Spanish then to make certain the man understand him, he yelled it in English, "Let go of me asshole!"

"¡Cuándo usted se instala, hormiga de orina!" Val returned the favor so the boy would know that he understood both languages, "When you settle down, pissant!"

A few more minutes of name calling continued until Johnny got the point that this was going to keep on until he stopped hurling insults at this man, his mother and everyone he knew or might ever know in his entire life. Johnny's rump remained under assault by the man who more than understood Johnny's mishmash of English and Spanish profanities. Giving in to the fight, Johnny stopped cursing, relaxing his body to show he was giving in.

Val grunted satisfied that the disorderly kid had finally gotten the idea, stopped whompin' the grubby youth's bright red exposed ass, his peasant pants long since slipped to the ground. He released Johnny who hastily hitched his pants up, double-knotted the rope belt that had held the pants in place.

Val was taken back to see not hatred in the boy's eyes but a grudging look of what? Gratitude? No. Appreciation? No. It sure wasn't surprise nor angry...ahhh...it was acceptance at the penalty doled out. Looks like the little shit wasn't some dumb sonofabitch after all he thought. Val grinned as the boy furiously rubbed his sore rump with both hands, as those grimy peon pants rode up and down his scrawny legs.

Johnny ducked his eyes downward, his long raven locks hiding his expression while he mumbled his name, "Juanito."

"That's better, Johnny. Better than pissant...ain'it?"

The boy first kicked at the earth, with a dirty toe, and then lifted his eyes and looked intensely, up at the man before him before mumbling, "Si."

"Ya speak English, don't ya, Johnny?"

"Si," he replied not breaking his stare at the tall man.

"Then don't ya think ya should? Maybe ya don't know it, but ya ain't in México any longer, Johnny, but the good ole US of A, but even better than that, you're standin' in Texas."

Johnny still looked directly at the man, before nodding once, then answering, "'kay."

"Where's your folks?"

"Dead."

"Where ya headin'"

"Dunno."

"Ya in trouble?"

"Nope."

"Ya hungry?"

"Yep."

"Well, hell, ya don't say much now do ya, except ta swear and call my momma names?"

"Yep."

Val noticed that the kid's eyes were intense sapphire blue, confirming his guess that the boy was not a Mexican, at least not a full-blown Mexican even if his dialect was a bizarre blend of English and Spanish. He was a mixture, dark, almost black hair and skin brown from possibly the sun, but those eyes were the eyes of an Angelo...but he was a half-breed...mestizo. Val wondered what in the hell this kid was doing way out here in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a gun in his hand? What was his story?

He figured maybe he would need to start this dance with the kid, get him to trust him before he'd open up and tell him what was on his mind. He sighed, hadn't planned on bringin' home any kid...but he sure as hell couldn't just leave him here.

"Name's Crawford, Val Crawford," he said sticking out his hand to snatch Johnny's right hand and pump it up and down. Johnny liked the way the man said his name, he'd be sure to remember the way he did to use it.

"Fuck, ya got a hard hand, mister."

"Val," he said. "We make 'em hard-hittin' in Texas, kid. Watch ya mouth, boy or ya'll be gettin' more of the same."

"Shit," mumbled the unrepentant boy, as he rubbed more.

Val tilted his head back again, roared loudly at the gutsy kid before mounting Cochise; he leaned over, grabbed the front of Johnny's grubby shirt to haul him to the back of his saddle. He wanted the boy downwind from him for the ride back to his place.

"MADRE de DIOS!" yelled Johnny when his rump smacked against the back of Cochise.

Val grinned, "Can't be helped, kid. Hold on we've got ten miles or so before we git ta my place. This should learn ya ta mind ya manners, least around me. Ya'll be takin' a long, hot bath before I feed ya anything. Ya stink."

"Ah hell," mumbled Johnny gritting his teeth at the motion of the horse alternated which side of his rump stung the most for the downward stride of the animal. That was the longest, hardest ten miles he ever rode in his life. He figured that the man made damn sure to hit every rut and bump along the trail that he could. By the time they reached Val's homestead, Johnny was thinking he'd never sit down comfortably again in his life. Shit, now he had to have a bath before getting any food. He must have been born under an unlucky star.

# # #

The backdoor of the sheriff's office opened warily, a hand snaked out grabbing the front of his shirt. Val pulled Johnny inside, sticking his head back out to see if anyone was around. Shifting his head side to side he grunted before closing the door, locking it.

"Still pullin' on my shirt like I was some dumb-ass kid, come on Val, ya know I checked. No one followed."

"Pays ta be cautious, Johnny, ya know I taught ya that. Ya sure took your sweet time ta git over here."

"Can't be helped," shrugged Johnny. "Been a busy day. And Hamilton stuck a shadow on me."

Val towered over Johnny, "Harrumph...should I ask or just assume that ya found the sweetest, purtiest gal over at The Silver Jubilee ta make your how-do with?"

Johnny cheekily grinned at Val, "Ya can ask but I ain't tellin' ya nothin'."

"Don't matter a lick ta me one way or the other. We got a job ta do and you best keep your wits about ya and your pants on, Johnny."

"Ya worry too much Val. I've got Yuma all scoped out, as too the players."

"Fine, step into the other room. Let's parley with the others, filled 'em in on what's been takin' place. Need ta map out the next steps in the plan."

"Val, I don't have much time before I need ta get down ta the livery stable and start earnin' my keep with a show of force for Milt Hamilton."

"I done told ya, keep ya pants on boy, this won't take up too much of ya precious time," groused Val. Val was the only person who could get away with calling Johnny a boy, based on their past history. "We've only been waitin' since dark for ya."

The pair walked into the main office, where a group of bleary-eyed people met the infamous Johnny Madrid. It was quickly determined that for now the Judge and his wife along with Travis Perkins would need to stay sequestered in the sheriff's office until evening before they could with any degree of safety be moved to their hideout. Johnny gave Val a map to the location, where prior to his arrival in town, he had found a site that would act as the base camp for their operations.

It was a well-known fact that Johnny had arrived in Yuma on horseback. Truth be known Johnny had actually days before, driven a wagon nearby into the base of the hills that was filled with supplies they would need. His horse had been hitched to the back of the wagon so Johnny could make his grand entrance into the town, putting people on notice that he was there.

Only after Johnny had set-up the camp, which was tucked securely in a box canyon where the team of horses could roam free to eat and drink, did Johnny ride into town. Prior to coming into Yuma, Johnny spent several days and nights scoping out the lay of the land. He knew where Hamilton lived, where the working mines were, where the miners bunked, how many men were working for Hamilton. Johnny had indeed done his homework. He knew the ebb and flow of Milt's operations, he knew where they needed to hit the man to drive him away from Yuma if he made that choice, otherwise, Johnny knew where the cemetery was as well.

Boxes of dynamite had been hidden in water-tight protective wrappers at pivotal locations to be discharged if or when necessary. What was most important was the elements of surprise as Val with the assistance of the townspeople would be able to set things up without being spotted under the cloak of darkness. Johnny was to maintain his presence in Yuma to keep a handle on the thugs. Timing was just as important as well in running a tight, smooth operation.

If Val was able to train Sheriff Crowley and the band of townspeople how to move towards their goal things would work out. If not, a lot of good people could die while the not so good got away with destroying yet another town. Ever since Johnny's stroke of good luck with being found by Val years earlier, Johnny tried really, really hard to do the right thing, most of the time. Sometimes things did get in the way and not go as planned. When Val's telegram for help came, Johnny was at the point in his life where he didn't mind seeing his old amigo, the man who was more of a father to him than any other man could or did claim. Johnny quickly became grounded again as Val had a calming influence on Johnny. Val could settle Johnny down faster than Johnny could break a frisky colt.

Johnny promptly told the assembled group of what he had done in preparation. He gave Val another detailed map he had sketched, showing where the hidden caches of dynamite were stored, where the mines were, where the miners and the thugs stayed but most importantly where Milt Hamilton hung his hat at night. They made provisions if and only if he could shake his tail again to meet at the base camp in a week's time to see how much progress had been made.

Otherwise, it was determined that Val would stay with his group while Johnny would keep the lid on the pot in Yuma. They drafted a contingency plan as well to fall back on if need be.

Judge Whitmore and Mrs. Mary Whitmore were impressed with the coolness, the confidence of both Johnny Madrid and Val Crawford. Offering silent prayers that soon they could reclaim their town.

Mrs. Whitmore pressed her hand into Johnny's, "Bless you Mr. Madrid for coming to our assistance. Your mother, God rest her soul would be proud to know that you have grown into a fine young man. I thank you, my husband thanks you and the rest of the community will thank you when you and Mr. Crawford have set us free."

Johnny shuffled his boots against the floorboards, blushing bright red at the older woman's kinds words, "Ma'am thank ya. Shucks, it's nothin'."

"Nothing!" exclaimed Mary. "Do you hear him, Mr. Whitmore, modest and humble too! Such a dear, sweet, handsome, thoughtful, noble, fine young man."

Val rolled his eyes over the top of Mrs. Whitmore towards Johnny, widely breaking into a smirk, "Ya got that right, Mrs. Whitmore, Johnny's a regular little angel in heaven, ta hear ya tell it."

"Well, Mr. Crawford, he's certainly Yuma's own!"

"Ma'am, Val, y'all, if ya don't mind, I need ta be headin' back before I'm missed by my own shadow. It's been real nice meetin' everyone. Y'all follow Val's instructions. This will all work out. Before ya know it, Yuma will be your home again."

Val walked Johnny to the door, cuffing him on the arm, "Yuma's own...Johnny Yuma. Ha, ha, ha. Kinda a pretty thought. Does have a certain ring ta it."

"Shut-up Val; just be sure ya take care of your end of the business. I'll see ya."

"Bye, Johnny."

"Bye, Val."

Johnny ducked out of the sheriff's office, down the alleyway and headed back towards The Silver Jubilee. Under the early morning darkness he made it up the outside staircase and climbed back inside Mandy's room. He quickly stripped off his clothes, slipped back into the bed, and spooned the girl's back. He drew her firm, petite buttocks snug against him, reached up with his hands to cup her breasts, "Man, I've died and gone ta heaven," thought Johnny as he settled down to grab a quick cat nap before starting the day.

Chapter 7

Johnny, true to his word arrived at the livery stable before daybreak to employ his unique wake-up method upon the inhabitants of Yuma. Hamilton kept his end of the bargain by providing targets - the previous night's empty liquor bottles from The Silver Jubilee. Johnny shook his head knowing it had been spineless Charlie who has hauled the empties before closing the saloon. Poor Charlie couldn't catch a break as Johnny was certain that his shadow, Shane McHugh, would never help get the job done.

"Dios, bet those miners left broke," Johnny mumbled as he saw the boxes lined up along the corral. He thought about another use for empties besides targets. In a small Nevada mining town he once watched an old hermit build his home with nothing but empty bottles and adobe mud mortar. He asked the owner why and Tom Kelly told him, he liked the way the colored bottles sparkled in the bright sunlight, building materials were hard to come by and impossible to build a house from Joshua trees, but plenty of empty bottles for the taking. He hadn't spent so much as a plugged Indian nickel for his 3 room, L-shaped house. Johnny had a feeling that the old guy was always in a tipsy frame of mind living in a house that smelled like a saloon day in and day out, seeing as how none of the bottles had been washed out first.

"Hell," thought Johnny, "he could build himself a whole damn town in no time."

Johnny positioned his targets at various sections of the fence, randomly placing them on the boards, spaced in different arrangements; singles, doubles or triples, short or tall bottles. The shapes and sizes of the bottles didn't matter to him; it was something to do while he watched Yuma's early morning goings-on. Activity just before dawn was nonexistence, with the exception of McHugh babysitting him from outside the entrance of the Jubilee.

"Goddamn he's one nasty bastard," Johnny thought finishing his set-up.

McHugh sat with his arms crossed over his big belly. He kept scratching at his beard. Johnny had seen him do that previously, maybe the beard was infested with fleas or lice. "Ahhh, God's revenge, little pests buggin' the oversized bully. Kinda like David and Goliath," he pondered the more McHugh work at his beard.

Johnny thought about yelling, "Ya could shave that thing off and quit scratchin' like a dog." But then he figured maybe the bastard would drive himself loco if he kept at it long enough. He wouldn't want one; believing that most females preferred rubbing a smooth face instead of one that probably stunk to high heaven. What with old food, spilt beer, rotgut whiskey, dead skin, fleas, ticks, lice, the list was long as to what could be on or in that beard. Something to check with Val, since Val had a scruffy beard, but Johnny never recalled him scratching like he had fleas.

"Never mind, Johnny, take care of your business at hand," he told himself. Johnny now made a point to have direct eyeball contact with McHugh, who tossed hateful glares at the youthful gunslinger.

"Hey McHugh! Good mornin'!," grinned Johnny.

Johnny looked at McHugh then towards the sun just showing over the mountain range. "Looks like it'll be another fine day. Did ya sleep well last night? Sure don't look like it ta me from here. Now me, I always sleep well, especially when I have my arms wrapped around a warm, willin' pretty little gal."

While he was baiting McHugh Johnny tugged on a black leather glove on his right hand that fit like his skin. It would protect his fingers from cramping with the amount of shooting he would be doing. He liked to wear it to lend an element of danger and style to his gunslinger persona. Johnny only used the glove for situations like this.

McHugh looked like he was pissed drew his pistol, pointing it at Johnny, "Never mind how well I slept, sonny boy. I do believe that Mr. Hamilton has business for you to tend to, right now, sonny boy. Need any more prodding, sonny boy? Couple slugs at your feet help remind you, sonny boy?"

Johnny now had his hands resting on his slender hips; he slowly raised them up to show McHugh they were empty, "I'm workin' on it..."

"Work faster, sonny boy!"

"Look McHugh, my name's Madrid, Johnny Madrid. Use it. Last warnin' I ain't your sonny boy."

"Sure, whatever you say...sonny boy."

Johnny pulled his pistol so quickly, that his sudden action stunned McHugh as a single bullet whipped towards him, grazing the outside of his right arm just below his shoulder. His gun fell to the street as the sting of the bullet's blazing kiss seared his skin; it felt like a red hot branding iron had been placed against his arm marking him. Looking down he saw a round bullet hole on the front of the upper portion of his jacket sleeve, and he felt the exit hole at the back of his sleeve. He also felt the trickle of blood as gravity took its course, streaming bloody rivulets down his arm. Using his left hand he pressed it against the wound.

"You sonofabitch, Madrid, I'll kill you for that," he spat in a menacing tone.

Johnny still held his gun, sauntered towards him. He kicked McHugh's dropped pistol away registering the venom in McHugh's dark eyes, the line of spittle that ran from the corners of his mouth, the ugly red nose that had been broken a time or two in a fistfight.

"I tried ta tell ya nice and polite like. Only trouble with ya is ya just don't listen. I ain't your sonny boy. Don't confuse me with someone who is afraid of ya. Think of that as my friendly warnin'," he told the irritated man, pointing to the hole.

McHugh sputtered, "Why you fucking half-breed!"

"That ain't my name neither, seems like ya havin' a hard time recallin' my name. Before ya get me any madder why don't ya go have sonny boy inside bandage up that arm before he needs ta do both arms for ya? I've got other things ta do over there." Johnny pointed his pistol down the street towards the livery stable to indicate where he would be.

"Madrid", spat the red-faced McHugh, "like I said, I'll kill you for this."

"Doubt it. Oh ya may try, I'll give ya that much. But ya ain't fast enough ta get the job done. Don't believe Hamilton wouldn't like it much if ya came after me. And I had ta kill ya."

Johnny watched as McHugh slammed the batwings on the Jubilee inwards, hollering for Charlie to "get your ass out here, pronto." Johnny shook his head, wondering if Charlie would ever grow a pair and tell the McHughs of the world "ta screw off." "Probably not. Dios! I can't take care of everyone; win some, lose some."

Bending down Johnny retrieved McHugh's gun from the street. He opened the cylinder to drop the bullets into the palm of his hand and placed them inside his jacket pocket. He then dropped McHugh's firearm into the watering trough with a splash and a thunk the gun rested at the bottom. Sighing he checked the street noticing the curtains at the sheriff's office moving. "Well, at least Val's watchin' my back." He knew better than to wave instead a quick adjustment of his hat signaling Val that everything was under control, more or less.

# # #

From inside the jail, Val and the others had watched the dawn fracas. Curtains were not fully opened to expose who was watching from behind the green curtains, only small slits. Val had eased open the hinged lookout panel on the front door to observe the activity, with his Sharps rifle at the ready should anyone interfere with the two opponents in what he called, "mind games."

"It's okay, they were sizin' up the other ta see who could push harder. That's my boy; he took care of the problem."

Mrs. Whitmore's face was ashen white as she clutched her hands to her face, "Oh thank the Lord. I don't know what we would do if that boy got killed."

Val watched as her husband, the honorable judge Thomas A. Whitmore patted her back, speaking softly, "There, there, Mary. Calm yourself."

"Miz Whitmore, that boy knows what's he's doin'. He'd of signaled me if he needed my help. Maybe ya should go rest some, guarantee that it'll be busy later on. We'll need everyone pitchin' in at full strength. I reckon it's gonna get pretty damn noisy once he starts shootin'. Owen, why don't ya plant yourself outside this office, seein' as how ya the local sheriff? Show yourself for a little while, just don't interfere with anything. I'm headin' out the back way ta cover Johnny's back. Don't look for me until dark."

# # #

Before starting his show of force, Johnny entered the livery stable to check on his horse as he told Oscar Swenson, proprietor, who had been peering out the window to watch.

"Ja sure, Mr. Madrid, your horse, I take real good care of him for you."

Johnny pressed a gold coin into his hand, "Just keep doin' that for me, Mr. Swenson. Apache's a good animal. Got him from a peaceful Indian tribe, not the Apaches neither, just like the name."

The youth gave his horse a few rubs before turning to his saddle hanging on the stall divider, right where he put it. His saddle had a special accessory secured in a watertight pouch attached to the Cheyenne Roll of the saddle, an extra pistol. With a bedroll tied on, no one knew it was there unless they searched his saddle. Most thieves wouldn't think to check a man's saddle; not when the contents in the saddlebags or rider's pockets would be the most logical locations searched. That's why Johnny kept the majority of his money hidden in his boots and an extra gun hidden behind his saddle.

Johnny retrieved his backup gun, grinning at Oscar, "Our secret, right? I never shoot all my bullets in target practice, not without havin' a backup gun. Uh, Mr. Swenson, it's Johnny ta ya."

"Jumping Jehoshaphat's, Jonny you are a smart one. You can count on me, it's our secret."

"Don't know about smart, more like tried and true survival instincts, Mr. Swenson. Pays ta bein' careful 'round these parts."

Ja, you got that right, Jonny. Lots of folks depending upon you to get their town back."

"Workin' on it, Mr. Swenson."

He checked the gun, rolled the cylinder, held it up to test the sight before tucking it into the waistband of his pants, and directly out of vision of others using his jacket to conceal the butt of the gun. "See ya later, Mr. Swenson, it's time ta wake up the town with a bang if that first shot didn't do the trick."

"Ja it sure woke me up, Jonny."

"Lo siento, Mr. Swenson couldn't be avoided."

"No, no, Jonny, you did what you needed to do. That man deserved it and more. May God go with you."

Johnny drawled, "Well better him than the other choice, Mr. Swenson."

# # #

Johnny perused the street, noting that Sheriff Crowley was out in the open, "Well, well, well, Val, ya do work wonders, don't ya? Wonder where ya got ta?"

He causally stretched his back to cover his staring at windows and rooftops until he spotted Val, in Mandy's window. "Hope Mandy woke up and got dressed before Val barged in." In answer to his thoughts, he saw his nightingale's face at the other window; she pushed the window up, leaned out to blow him a kiss before Val yanked her back inside.

Finished stretching Johnny positioned himself about twenty paces from the corral. Taking a familiar stance he fired six quick shots, smashing bottles and undoubtedly waking up residents to scurry from beds to check what was happening. He emptied the chambers, reloaded, stepped back further from the targets and repeated the killing of bottles one by one. Two more rounds ricochet through the town before his shadow sank back in his chair, wearing a bulky bandage around his bare arm.

"At least Charlie ripped the sleeve off, would hate ta have ta look at his bare-chest," Johnny thought, betting that was more than likely what Val would think if McHugh was within his viewing range.

Johnny touched two fingers to forehead in a mock salute to McHugh, sat like an unmovable boulder with a frozen expression of vicious hatred displayed upon his face. Johnny shrugged his shoulders, paced more steps away from the targets, turned, dropped into a low crouch and fan fired, demolishing targets from the back railing. His pistol was warm to the touch and he was bored with the exercise. Hamilton was getting his money's worth as the townsfolk pressed their faces prying from their windows; some bold enough to congregate in mass at the front of the General Store jawing and pointing.

"Yep, few more rounds of this bullshit; then time ta get something ta eat," thought Johnny as he arranged more empties on the railing. "Maybe some flapjacks, eggs, potatoes, the works. Taking my girl with me ta let everyone know ta stay away from her."

After the next rounds fired Johnny blew the smoke from the barrel before reloading. Using the reloads for opportunities to scan the town, he took his time. It paid to know who was lurking about, watching him. He wondered if Val had spotted anything from his window seat of the town. "Yep, lucky for Val that the best looking saloon girl's room overlooks Main Street," Johnny smiled, "Lucky for me."

Stepping back five feet, Johnny noticed the great and powerful Milt Hamilton ride in with Day Pardee. "At least in his mind, he's great and powerful," Johnny thought with contempt. He didn't bother to acknowledge his employer as he spun, fired at the last remaining targets - six longneck liquor bottles. Only hitch was that none of the bottles were hit, nothing had tumbled in broken bits and pieces to the ground.

"Pardee, I thought you said this kid could shoot? He didn't hit a damn thing."

"Mr. Hamilton, wait."

"Why?"

"SHANE!"

"What?"

"Haul your ass over to those bottles. Hold them up for Mr. Hamilton!"

"Pardee, why don't you go get..."

"McHUGH, follow Pardee's order!" bellowed Milt Hamilton, dismounting in front of The Silver Jubilee. "I don't care for orders to be disobeyed. Unless you do as instructed, I'll order Madrid to teach you some manners. Have him use you as a target. Surely he wouldn't miss you. I wonder if he can't make you piss yourself like Charlie."

McHugh stomped to the corral, where he angrily reached for the first longneck bottle's neck to hold the bottle up. Surprise registered as he yelled, "What the hell?" In his hand was the only the neck of the bottle, shot clean through, not shattering the bottle. McHugh grabbed each of the bottles in the row, all had the same result. Six bottles plainly shot into two pieces that somehow remain together as one.

Johnny joined Pardee and Hamilton, "I tried ta tell ya, I don't need ta practice."

"Most impressive, Madrid. As I told you I want a daily show of force for the prying eyes watching, not for practice. You obviously are an excellent marksman with your pistol. Shall I assume with a rifle as well?"

"I do alright, I reckon. No complaints so far."

"And humble with your talents too, I see. Well this is the reason for your exhibition. Let these locals know to stay out of my way or get out of town. Well done. Pardee make sure Madrid gets a bonus with his pay. I would think five hundred dollars would be sufficient."

"Thanks, Mr. Hamilton. Much obliged."

Milt walked away inside The Silver Jubilee without another look at Johnny.

Pardee slapped an arm around Johnny, "Madrid, that's a nice parlor trick. How about breakfast?"

"Another time, Day. I made plans with Mandy already."

"That frisky little filly and you are becoming quite the pair, Madrid. Next thing you know, you'll be married, settling down to raise a horde of kids." Pardee poked Johnny in his ribs.

"Whoa, Day, let's not get carried away. A man has needs that a pretty young thing in the middle of the night..." grinning cheekily at Pardee he added, "or day can handle. Know what I mean?"

"Sure Johnny means you're as randy as a bull in a pen full of heifers in heat." He took another jab at Johnny's ribs. "Can't say I blame you, enjoy her while you can...right?"

"I plan ta Day, never know what mañana brings."

Pardee smirked, "I do. More silver and gold from Hamilton's mines."

Johnny looked at him, there was lingering question hanging in the air. "What the hell was Day up to?" he asked himself. But to Pardee he said, "Yeah, Day. I'm gettin' Mandy and take her ta the café. I'm starvin', gotta keep my strength up for Hamilton's "show of force."

"Less nighttime mattress dancing might help too, John Madrid."

"Day, I'll think about that. Let ta know, later," smirked Johnny before he headed inside.

Day waited until Johnny was gone, out of earshot, never realizing that over his head Val Crawford was listening.

"McHugh."

"Yea?"

"Anything happen last night with Madrid?"

"Outside of him shagging that whore every hour?"

"Forget about that! Did he leave the Jubilee?"

"Nope, he never left the whore's bed."

"Good. Care to explain, why the hell your gun is at the bottom of the trough? What happened to your arm or need I ask?"

"I tell you one thing, just as soon as we no longer need Madrid, I'm making him pay."

"That's a fool's errand. You think you stand a chance? You saw what he did to those bottles didn't you? It will take more than your hotheaded angry to take care of John Madrid. For now, you just let him be. I have a fondness for the cocky bastard. He'll do just fine in his role in taking over Hamilton's operations."

"How?"

"You let me worry about that...let's just say I know Madrid's weakness. He let the cat out of the bag on that."

"Ahhh...now wait a minute...what cat?"

"Mandy, you idiot! She'll be the hole card to use to keep Madrid toeing the line. Once Hamilton's out of the picture and I'm running things, Madrid can stay or go, with or without the whore. Others will want to enjoy her even if her protector takes off."

"Or is killed," growled McHugh.

Chapter 8

Val didn't want to do it but had no other option but to place his hand over Mandy's mouth to keep her from making any sounds while he listened to Pardee and McHugh. The slight girl trembled in his clasp at hearing the plans those dirty bastards made to use her as their hole card over Johnny.

Val had leaned down to whisper into her ear, "Shhh, girl, let me hear. This is important. Got it?"

She nodded her head up and down as well as she could with her current confinement and remained still. Under his hand that was pressed to her mouth she gritted her teeth, not because of this man but because of those down below. She vowed to start carrying her pig sticker along with the pearl handled derringer she kept in a box on her bureau for protection against those stinking, low-life scoundrels who took pleasure from using and abusing helpless women.

Mandy had heard many gruesome accounts about the heartbreaking fates of some women in her profession. Atrocious conduct was not constrained to saloon girls and prostitutes singularly as ordinary town women and farmers' wives could and were beaten to bloody pulps, faces battered, bruised beyond recognition at times. Some were cut by heartless sadist brutes that would grind their dinky peckers between a woman's legs, attempting force to make them harden, believing it was the woman's fault when they couldn't get them to do their bidding. By damn she was not gone to end up like those women. She had enough exploitation from the bastards in this town. She swore not again, this time she would be ready to fix them good and proper if she need be.

Since Johnny's arrival she had tucked her derringer and knife away, as he insisted she stay in her room for safety. Mandy was confident that she did not need either weapon as long as the youth with the gentle eyes, soft lips and a backbone wider than the Colorado River was standing by her side as her protector. He promised to take care of her and he was doing a dazzling job. Now here was another man backing Johnny. What more could a girl ask for? Still better be prepared than not, shit has a way of happening.

The conversation ebbed down below, so Val eased his grip on the girl, "Now Miss I'm goin' ta remove my hand. But only if ya promise me not ta do anything either ya or me or Johnny will regret. Got it?"

Again her head bobbed up and down in agreement. "I'd never do anything to harm Johnny, honest and true."

Val smiled at her, "I believe ya. But couldn't chance any noise ta alert 'em down below." He released his hold and the two stare at the other.

Johnny knocked softly on the door, "Mandy, its Johnny. Let me in."

Val in three long strides crossed the room to the door, unlocked it to let his friend inside. Johnny remained silent until the door was closed and locked again.

In a hushed whisper Johnny spoke "Val, outside." He held his finger to his lips, pointing to the bottom of the door where a long shadow crossed the threshold. Grabbing Mandy into his arms, he gave her a long, loud lip-smacking kiss, as if they had been apart for years instead of a few hours.

"Johnny..." she said, trying to get his attention by pulling back.

"Later, Mandy, playact with me... for the audience outside," he whispered. She nodded yes.

"Mandy, come here girl, and show me how much ya missed me!" he exclaimed with exuberance. Bed springs began their systematic, rhythm of coupling, followed with low moans and groans. Mandy threw in a couple "oh my Gods" and Johnny tossed "yee haw" and "whoopee".

Val rolled his eyes at their charade. Johnny and Mandy were actually seated on the edge of the bed bouncing up and down. Val's arched inverted v eyebrows brought giggles to Mandy, as the shadow faded away.

"Quite a performance, Johnny, ever think about goin' on a stage?" drawled Val.

"Shit, Val, I've been on a stage before, with ya along for the ride. Nothin' special about that, amigo."

"Not a stagecoach, ya pissant, a stage where actors put on a show."

Johnny cocked his head at Val and looked downward at him, making Val uncomfortable enough to think perhaps his fly was unbuttoned. Johnny's look lasted long enough to make Val look down to check.

"Oh ha ha, Johnny, nice one. Now quit foolin' around. Your buddies out there have several plans of their own they're plottin'. One includes gettin' rid of ya."

"I'd figured as much. We'll just beat 'em ta the punch and get rid of them first is all."

Mandy tugged on his sleeve, "They want to use me, to get you to do their bidding."

"Ain't gonna happen, Mandy."

"Who do ya think was on the other side of the door Johnny?" asked Val.

"Milt Hamilton, it had ta be. Pardee and McHugh were on the street plottin', Hamilton and Charlie were the only ones in the bar. Unless one of the other ladies..."

"Bella or Rosa."

"Thanks Mandy. Have ya heard 'em up?"

"No, but don't expect them until late afternoon. After a Saturday night of dirty, stinking miners pawing at you and too many drinks, they don't get up until late afternoon. Wait a minute." Mandy jumped off the bed to unlock the door, "Be right back."

"Hold on, where are ya goin'?"

Mandy placed her index finger against her mouth, "Shhhh!" She stepped into hallway, which was vacant; lifted her nose and sniffed the air. Triumphantly she turned back inside, relocking the door. Giddy at having the answer she said with delight, "It was Hamilton."

"How do ya figure, Mandy?"

"Easy. He's the only one around these parts that uses cologne. Some kind of strong musk smell that lingers well after the skunk has left."

"Miss Mandy, I like ya. Leave it ta Johnny ta find a pretty and clever little gal. Johnny, looks like everyone around here sticks their long noses where they don't belong. All tryin' ta outsmart the other. Reminds me of a juggler with three balls in the air, tryin' ta not drop any, but sooner or later one's got ta fall."

Johnny grinned as Val mimicked the hand motions, "Yeah, Val. Guess ya have ta stay put until later. I'm takin' Mandy for breakfast seein' that's what I told Pardee we would do after my street show."

"Johnny, I never saw such fancy shooting before. You are amazing," Mandy said as she gazed into his twinkling blue eyes. She planted a lingering, gentle kiss on his soft lips, slipping her tongue inside his mouth, gently sucking.

Over her head Johnny saw Val's eyes rolling upward again as he now mimicked Mandy by silently mouthing slowly Mandy's words, "...you are amazing!"

Johnny pulled away, "Come on, Mandy, before anyone wonders what's keepin' us. "

"Johnny, I'll bet ya they think they know what's goin' on here," Val smarted off. "Leave me be. Need ta do some thinkin'."

"Val, don't clump around in those boots of yours. Take 'em off unless ya think of a way ta get out unnoticed until nightfall."

"Sure amigo. Stick with the plan."

# # #

After breakfast, Mandy snuggled tightly against Johnny's frame, with his left arm casually slugged around her slender shoulders. Leaning down he listened to her whisper, "Will you look at them, standing around gawking at us. Honestly, you will think these farmers never saw a young couple out walking together."

"Mandy, I think we're probably not what they had in mind as a "young couple," he chuckled.

"Well, why not?"

"Mandy, think about it."

"Ohhh...you!" she exclaimed then laughed as she did think about it – they were not the average couple out for a stroll after a leisure breakfast. She was a spoiled dove and he was a fearless gunslinger.

Johnny paused in front of the General Store front window, spying something that caught his eye, "Will ya looky there, Mandy!"

"What?"

"That has my name on the cover!"

Out loud she read, "_Beadle's_ _Dime Novel – No. 23, Johnny Madrid, Pistolero of the Border_" by the American News Company, New York, New York. On the cover was a rough drawing of two men squaring off their hands ready to clutch their pistols.

"Johnny, let's go inside and buy it."

"Mandy, I don't know. That's done by someone who ain't even livin' here in the west but some back east city slicker claimin' ta know me. Like that's gonna happen."

"Come on Johnny, it will be something to do back in my room."

Johnny squeezed her tightly about her slim waist, "Dios, Mandy, we already have something ta do."

"Johnny, I want it, it's only a nickel. What have you to lose?"

"A nickel and time better spend nuzzlin' up ta ya," he said as the girl pulled his hand.

"Listen to this, Johnny,"

"_Unobserved, Johnny Madrid had worked his way around to a position directly in the rear of his enemy and in a moment when the stranger least expected it, his hat was snatched from his head, revealing his face to the gaze of all the nearest bystanders, under the full glare of the gun hawk._

_A cry of astonishment came then._

_The stranger reeled back, aghast, a terrible oath pealing from his lips: "Johnny Madrid!" he cried."_

"Mandy, I told ya, it's all made-up rubbish."

"But it's fun to read, let's get it."

Johnny sighed, but he couldn't resist those big blue eyes of Mandy, leaned down to whisper, "I'd much prefer gettin' ya."

A few minutes later back on the street with the pulp fiction, some licorice, gumdrops and peppermint sticks and four boxes of .45 bullets to replace the spent cartridges from his earlier target practice, the pair strolled to the livery stable. Johnny had decided to take Mandy for a ride.

"Ya know how ta ride a horse, don't ya?"

She watched as Johnny saddled Apache, with ease, placing their purchases on a stack of hay outside the stall, "No."

"It's easy."

"I think I'd rather stay and wait back in the room for you," she said with trepidation as Apache rolled his eyes back in his head, snorting, sensing her fear.

"Trust me?"

She looked up at Johnny, his eyes gentle, his touch to her chin soft, breathlessly she answered, "Yes."

"Well, how about this time ya ride behind me?"

"Johnny, I don't know, it's an awfully long way down to the ground if I fall, from way up there."

"Mandy, ya trust me so I ain't goin' let ya fall. Just hold tight."

Johnny slung his leg over the saddle and grabbed Mandy's forearm, pulling her up behind him. Her long skirts rustled as she adjusted them before circling Johnny's waist with her arms, tight.

"Ease up some girl, not that tight, I got ta breathe."

He guided Apache from the stable, the horse kicking his back legs at freedom from the stall, made Mandy yelp in Johnny's ear, holding tighter as she bounced up and down.

# # #

Val watched the pair from his vantage point, "Great, now I can get some rest." He secured the chair under the door knob as a precaution for any nosy varmints dropping by uninvited as he slept. He figured he had a couple of hours easy before the pair came back.

He watched as the big, lumbering gun hand stumbled out to the street; mounted his horse and trailed after the couple. "Johnny, I hope ya know ya got a shadow," he thought, stoking his beard.

# # #

Johnny stopped Apache to look backwards, he knew he would have a follower and yep there he was. Johnny looked at Mandy, "feeling any more comfortable back there, yet?"

"Better, just don't go fast."

Johnny laughed, "I promise, I'll let ya know if I plan ta."

They continued at an easy pace, looking like young lovers off for some clandestine time, but Johnny had another purpose in mind, besides giving Val the opportunity for some much needed sleep. He wanted to see if McHugh would challenge him once away from Pardee's and Hamilton's thumbs for another and he wanted to ride near the box canyon entrance to make certain it remained untouched by the placement of his marker. He would spot it but not anyone else unless they knew what to look for.

Mandy leaned her head against Johnny's right shoulder, giggling, "Suppose you know, being Johnny Madrid, Pistolero of the Border and all, that we're being followed?"

Johnny squeezed her clasped hands around his middle, guffawing, "Wouldn't be able ta rightly call myself that if I didn't know. 'Course it helps that he's as big as a mountain, hard ta miss him."

He decided to wheel Apache around to a stop to give their shadow a wave followed by a "Halloo, McHugh! Ya lost or something?"

McHugh pulled to a stop, rolling his cigarette from one corner of his mouth to the other, yelled back, "Mind your own business, Madrid."

"I am, seems like ya mindin' my business. We don't need an escort. Mandy and me want some privacy if ya don't mind."

"Haven't ya fucked her enough already? You ain't tired of her?"

Johnny felt Mandy bristle behind him, shook his head, no, "McHugh, that ain't no way ta speak about my girl. Ya mind ya manners around her."

"Gonna teach me better ones?"

"I might. Why don't ya go take a siesta under a shady tree? Leave us alone for a while? I promise ya, we ain't goin' anywhere but ta a nice spot along the river ta have some fun."

"I've got my orders Madrid, just like you do."

"Yeah? Well, we don't want an audience."

"Then don't do anything you don't want me to see."

"McHugh, ya ain't gettin' on my good side."

"Tough."

Johnny whispered to Mandy, "Think ya can hold on tight and not be afraid?"

"I...I...I think so."

"That a girl, Mandy. We're goin' on a little game of hide and seek. Just hold on, close ya eyes if ya have too, it will be alright."

"McHugh?"

"What do you want Madrid?"

"Suit yourself," he turned Apache around, continuing at a leisurely pace.

"Mandy, as soon as I get ta that bend up there, I'm kickin' Apache into high gear. We got about two miles ta run full out before we get ta where I can lose him in the canyons."

"Okay Johnny."

Johnny griped Mandy's clasped hands as he urged Apache into a full gallop just as soon as he rounded the bend.

McHugh had dropped back a bit behind the couple. Rounding the bend, he looked forward for the pair and saw nothing but an empty trail. Cursing he savagely kicked his mount, jerking the bit in the horse's mouth, which whinnied, protesting the feel of the metal pulling the insides of his mouth. The horse reared, tossing his heavy load to the ground, before loping down the trail in the direction of Johnny and Mandy.

Johnny pulled Mandy to the ground, he held the trembling girl for a moment, kissed the top of her head before placing her inside a crevice in the rocks.

"Stay put," he told her.

"Johnny," she hissed, "Where are you going? Don't leave me here."

"Mandy, it's okay, it's safe here, I'm circlin' around ta see where McHugh is. Just stay behind this rock and be quiet is all. I'll be right back."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Johnny leaped back into the saddle, circling the rock formation, stopping behind some rocks to watch the road. Shortly McHugh's horse galloped by, only McHugh wasn't astride the horse's back. Johnny mounted Apache chasing the horse, getting near he reached for the dangling reins pulling both horses to a stop.

He dismounted again checking McHugh's saddle, it wasn't loose, and there wasn't any sign of blood on it or the horse, no blood or bites marks on the animal's legs that he could see. Johnny didn't know what to make of that, as he scanned the horizon for McHugh either on foot pursing his horse or for the glint of metal for an ambush by the brute. Seeing neither, Johnny retraced his trail back to Mandy, where the girl broke cover to cling to his neck.

"Johnny! I never was so scared before, waiting for you to come back!"

"Mandy, are you alright?"

"I think so, my heart is pounding something fierce, feel it." She lifted his hand to her bosom and normally Johnny would have responded to the touch and feel of her breast, but he was distracted by the disappearance of his shadow.

""Yep, beatin' pretty fast, Mandy. But have ya seen McHugh?"

"No, I didn't, you didn't?"

"Nope, his horse came flyin' by without him. He must have gotten off for some reason, can't think of a good one. Come on, let's check the trail."

"Do you suppose it could be a trap?"

"Can't be certain, maybe, but I doubt it. He ain't that smart and he's suppose ta follow me. Makes no sense for him ta let his horse wander off."

Johnny held the reins of McHugh's horse as he and Mandy doubled back along the trail. It wasn't long before they spotted the huge man lying on his back on the trail. Johnny got down again, helping Mandy to the ground. He tied the horses to a nearby tree with drawn pistol looked down at the man.

"McHugh!"

"McHugh, answer me!"

The bulky swell lying in the dirt didn't stir; Johnny edged closer to nudge him with his boot-tip, still no response. He bent to look closer and noticed that the man's chest was not rising or falling, drawing in air. Sinking to his knees, he placed his head on McHugh's chest, listening for a beat, hearing none; he checked the back of McHugh's head where a pool of blood was draining in the dirt. Pushing McHugh over to one side was no easy task, but when he did Johnny saw where McHugh had cracked his skull opened on a rock embedded in the hard soil.

"He's dead, Mandy."

"What?"

"Dead. Spilt his head open on a rock."

"Johnny! What do we do now?"

"Not much too do, except take him back into town, let the undertaker do his job."

"What about Pardee and Hamilton? They'll blame you for this."

"Hell, Mandy, I didn't kill him. Probably his own damn stupid fault," Johnny said getting to his feet.

He walked over to McHugh's horse that tried to back away from his touch. "Looky, see here Mandy, his horse is spooked bein' near the corpse. That bastard must have done something ta hurt him."

"He probably smells the blood."

"Maybe," Johnny pried open the horse's mouth and saw blood inside the horse's mouth from an open slash, "His own blood, Mandy. That dirty gringo bastard, ripped him, jerkin' too hard on the reins. Little wonder the horse took off, he must have reared and McHugh fell off, strikin' his head on the rock. Got just what he deserved, treatin' an animal like this, ain't no call for that."

"Now what do we do?"

"Mandy, we're goin' ta get McHugh up over his horse, if the horse will cooperate, take his body back. Can't leave him here, the buzzards will begin pickin' at him before we can get back with help. I need ya ta keep his horse calm; hold his head, while I hoist his body over the saddle. Think ya can do it?"

"Show me what to do."

"That's my girl."

"Think you can lift him Johnny?"

"Gotta try, won't be easy. But I use my horse and a rope ta pull him up and over."

Chapter 9

Riding slowly back into town brought a crowd of onlookers to stare as Johnny rode first to The Silver Jubilee. He assisted Mandy down from Apache, gave her a tight hug and told her to go upstairs and wait for him. Johnny had spotted Val's silhouette in the window, behind Mandy's lacy curtains and knew he would take care of the girl for him.

Hamilton, Pardee and a few of the other hired guns were at the barber shop, where Johnny headed, leading McHugh's horse.

"Mr. Hamilton, better come quick, Madrid's back."

"So? I'm busy." He was lying back in the barber's chair getting a shave.

"You're goin' want ta see this," said Jackson. "Madrid's leadin' McHugh's horse with him hangin' over the saddle. Looks like he's dead."

"SHIT! Pardee get out there," ordered Hamilton as he sat up in the chair. "Why in the hell is it that I can't get a damn shave in peace ever since Madrid's arrived?" He wiped the remainder of the shaving soap from his face and tossed the towel to the floor.

"Madrid, what happened?" queried Pardee, after lifting McHugh's head up, staring at the glassy eyes of the departed before releasing his hold.

"Near as I can tell, his horse must have reared, tossing him. He hit the back of his head on a rock; it's out there about eight miles down the trail, covered in his blood and brains."

"Did you see it happen?"

"No, his horse charged by me and Mandy. I caught his horse and doubled back ta find McHugh like that, dead. Check his horse's mouth, been tore pretty deep, looks ta me that the horse had enough pain, took off and McHugh fell."

"You sure you didn't see anything?"

"Pardee, I told you what I know, that's all there is. Go on and check him over, there ain't any bullets holes in him, least none that are fresh ones. There's no blood on his saddle. Man was cruel ta his horse and his horse paid him back in kind. Divine justice, I'd call it."

"Where's the girl, Madrid?"

"Left her off at the Jubilee, she pretty torn up at seein' him dead. She needs ta take it easy."

"I want to talk with her."

"Sure Day, I understand. Just do it later, she's exhausted, I sent her ta bed. Look if ya don't mind, I'll take the horse over ta the stable and get him taken care of along with my horse. I could use a drink."

"I'll see you at the Jubilee."

"Yeah, sure Day, in a little while."

# # #

At the Jubilee, under the watchful eyes of Charlie, Bella and Rosa, Mandy climbed the stairs, ignoring the questions tossed at her by the trio.

"What happened?" asked Charlie.

"Did that gunslinger kill him?"

"Where are ya goin?"

"Ain't ya gonna answer us?" whined Bella.

Rosa bitched, "What's the matter, think ya too high flauntin' ta speak with us? Screwin' that gunslinger? Ya still a whore!"

Mandy didn't even look at them as she climbed the stairs. She eased into her room as Val held the door for her, standing behind it to prevent any onlookers from seeing him. He firmly shut it then escorted Mandy to the chair, guiding the ashen-faced girl into it.

"Mandy?"

He poured a shot of whiskey into a tumbler, handing it to her.

"Drink it down, all of it."

Her eyes searched his eyes; he held the glass waiting for her to take it from his hand. She took it and drank a sip.

"I said all of it, now."

She tilted her head back and finished the drink, feeling the slow burn of alcohol deceasing down her esophagus into her belly where warm flames igniting her into a strange, calming release.

Val poured her another drink, sank to the edge of the bed, "Sip this one, Mandy. Can ya tell me what happened out there? Did Johnny shoot that man?"

She bit her lips, holding them taut, shook her head, "No, he was thrown from his horse. His eyes were horrible, staring expressionlessly at me, his mouth gaping open with all that blood and his brains falling out the back of his head. It was awful. Look, there's blood on my dress!"

"Drink it down," Val ordered as he tipped the glass for her, she was on the verge of becoming hysterical.

She gulped the second glass, followed by a third. She wasn't use to uncut whiskey; accustom to heavily watered drinks with only a small essence of the strong liquid. That was the only way to keep saloon girls on their feet all night long, plying drinks to the miners until it was time for their upstairs services to be called upon. Shaking she reached for the bottle that Val held.

"That's enough, Mandy. Ya know my old pappy told me once that "shit happens ta us all," guess it just was that man's time. The good Lord wanted him home for some reason, but I suspect the Lord changed his mind and he's burnin' in hell right about now from all the rotten, vile things he's done over the course of his lifetime. Don't ya fret any Mandy; God has His ways at fixin' things in the end."

She hiccupped as the burning sensation took hold of her facilities, rising to her feet, the alcohol hit home as she swayed side to side before collapsing into Val's arms. He placed her on top of the bed cover then turned back to the window to watch the action on the street.

He overheard a portion of the exchange between Johnny and Pardee; hand on his rifle for back-up, just in case things got tense. It looked like Johnny had the situation under control, waiting while McHugh's body was lowered from the saddle to be carted inside the barber shop, which like most, doubled as the town's undertaker. Johnny glanced at Pardee, before walking back over to the Jubilee where he collected his horse and took the pair to the livery stables.

Val sat down in the chair with his bird's eye view of the town, waiting for Johnny's return.

# # #

Milt growled at Pardee, "Do you think that half-breed bastard killed McHugh?" They were staring at the bulky naked remains, stretched out on a plank in the backroom.

Gus turned McHugh's head to the side; it was stiff as rigor mortis was claiming the chemical change in the corpse's muscles. He shook his head no.

"Why the hell not?"

"Mr. Hamilton, this man outweighs Madrid by at least 80 pounds, there's no way Madrid could jump him and do this to him. No bullet holes, no other marks, or wounds, stab marks, nothing. From the size of this head injury, it fits that McHugh got bucked off his horse and ended up on a rock."

"Shit!"

"Mr. Hamilton, let's just have someone else keep an eye on Madrid. He's doing what we asked. Got the town people in line, hell Charlie keeps out of his way but he can watch for us."

"No, Pardee, you watch him. I still don't trust him. No mistakes, keep your eyes on him, I've got a sweet deal going on here. No one and I mean no one better butt in and ruin it. Got it? I aim to be rich enough to buy out the territory."

Two pairs of cold, hard eyes stared, at the other; Day's shifted first, as he remembered his own plans for his own "sweet deal", "Yessir, Mr. Hamilton. I got it."

"Gus!"

"Yea?"

"Get this man buried, he's stinkin' up the room," Hamilton stormed from the back room. "Pardee, I'm going home. I want a report in the morning."

"Yessir, Mr. Hamilton."

Milt mounted, trailed by his odd assortment of thugs out of town.

# # #

Pardee headed to the Jubilee unaware that he was being watched from above. He grabbed a corner table, pushing out the chair. Charlie appeared with a bottle of tequila while Rosa and Bella sashayed towards him.

"Get the hell away from me, you hags!" They turned back to stand at the end of the bar, glaring at the man.

"Who the hell does that sonofabitch think he is," hissed Rosa.

"Shut up ninny, he'll hear ya."

"I don't care."

"Charlie, get those bitches out of here, now!"

Charlie gulped, "Sure Mr. Pardee. Get the hell out of here, now. Don't come back downstairs until you're needed."

Johnny pushed opened the batwing doors, his spurs clinging across the floorboards, staring at Pardee. He was carrying the store bought items from earlier in the day.

"Madrid."

"Yea."

"Sit down and have that drink. Tequila right?"

"Yea," he said pulling out the chair. He watched as Pardee filled his glass. Charlie hurried over with a bowl of lemons and another of the coarse salt.

Johnny licked his hand, sprinkled salt on it, bit into the lemon, licked the salt and drank the shot maintaining locked eyes with Pardee.

"Have another one, John Madrid," ordered Pardee as he refilled the glass.

"Day, ya know as well as I do I ain't gonna get drunk with ya, not a smart thing ta do. I reckon ya and I are pretty evenly matched. So ya got any questions about me, where my loyalties are and if ya can trust me, say it now," Johnny said evenly.

Day pursed his lips thinking before he smiled broadly at the cocky gun hawk, "You're a smart boy, Madrid, no doubt about that. Just what do you think is going on here?"

Johnny grinned, "I expect ya ain't talkin' about McHugh but rather Hamilton's operations."

"Go on. What do you know?"

"Ya seem like a man with plans on ya mind for ya future. Reckon ya plannin' on takin' over and getting' rid of Hamilton."

Day looked pleased, "I knew you were smart, John Madrid. I could use a man like you on my side, instead of those third-rate hired guns. Hell even McHugh was third-rate."

"Day, I could have told ya that. What's ya plan?"

"Get rid of Hamilton, the rest of the hired guns, rock bottom trash the lot of them. I need a quality gunslinger like you, one not afraid to take on the big dog to keep the miners and this town in line."

"Day, I think ya already have the town in line, they're afraid of their shadows, even old Charlie. Why don't ya just get rid of Hamilton and keep the others?"

"Why keep them?"

"Think about it Day, rock bottom trash, ain't gonna push back at ya. Be happy ta do ya bidin'," grinned Johnny. "Long as ya pay them something. Ya might want ta think about getting' some better lookin' gals around here."

"You have a point, Madrid, but what about you?"

"Day, all I'm lookin' for is my piece of the pot."

"That's all, just a piece?"

"Well, okay, I want Mandy too."

"Mandy?"

"Yeah, Day, she's ahhh gotten under my skin," he smiled.

"You don't want much do you?"

"Hey, the way I figure it a man needs three things ta keep him happy, a good horse, money in his pocket and a woman ta warm his bed. Everything else just falls into place."

"Fair enough, Madrid. Suppose you know that Hamilton wants me to keep my eye on you."

"Figured as much."

"I'm trusting you to not double-cross me Madrid."

"Replacin' McHugh?"

"Yea, Madrid, you got it."

"Day, I'm in. Only other thing I want is ta stop the bullshit with the target shootin', okay?"

"Sorry Johnny, you need to keep that up...for now until Hamilton is out of the picture."

Johnny sighed, "Dios, Day. A man's likes ta sleep in every once in awhile."

Day clink his glass to Johnny's, "There's a fix for that, Madrid."

"Yea?"

"Get your ass to bed earlier," he smirked. "Get her done earlier and then sleep."

Johnny drank his second pour, drawled, "Yea, I'll see if I can manage that. See ya."

"Madrid, it's still early, sun hasn't set."

"Yeah, I know, Day but Mandy was pretty upset at the gruesome sight of McHugh's brains all over the place. Think maybe she could use some special comfortin'."

"John Madrid, I like you, always thinking about the welfare of others. See you later?"

"Yeah, Day, later."

Chapter 10

Upstairs, Val listened to the latest developments, while Mandy slept. They decided to move their timetable if he could get his helpers trained fast enough to handle their end of the business. He needed to get back to the sheriff's office, just as soon as it was dark enough.

Johnny figured to get Mandy up and about, take her out to the café for dinner with Pardee, so Val could get away undetected from The Silver Jubilee. For now they sat watching the street, listening to the sounds of the town closing as the sun began its descent.

Val picked up the dime novel Johnny brought upstairs, "Boy, where did ya get this?"

"General Store carries 'em," Johnny pointed to Mandy, "Blame her, she wanted it. I told her it was made-up words from some greenhorn, never set foot outside of, what's that state?"

"New York."

"Yep, New York, that's the one."

"Shit, Johnny the drawin' don't look a thing like ya."

"Guess that's good, otherwise every half-rate gunslinger wanna ta be would be chasin' after me from here ta México and back again. I couldn't even go take a piss without someone wantin' ta call me out."

Val sighed, "I tried and tried ta tell ya, pick up a gun and get good enough with it would be ya downfall, boy. Guess I didn't whomp ya enough when ya were little, lettin' ya get away with it."

Johnny smirked at the man, the only man he knew that was closer to being a father than his own, "Val, ya whomp me plenty. Ya know why I practiced all those hours on end."

"Yea, boy, I was hopin' ya would grow out of the hate and killin' ya have on your brain. Hell, ya don't even know if your old man is still alive ta go kill him. He's an old man now, Johnny. Why in the hell don't ya forget about him? When this is all said and done, ya ride with me, be like old times again, amigo."

Johnny's eyes were blazing with rage at the mention of his old man, "No can do, Val. Ya know that when ya found me I was tryin' ta get ta California ta kill the man responsible for my mother's death. The bastard threw us out! What could she have done ta make him do that?"

"Johnny, I don't know. There are all kinds of trouble that goes on 'tween a husband and a wife. Just promise me boy that if ya do find him, ya'll at least give him a fair shake ta explain his side. Ya know there's two sides ta a coin. Ya only have the one side and that one has been burnin' holes in your heart for a long time."

Johnny looked down, hugging his arms tight to his frame, "Val, I'll give him a fair chance ta explain. I promise ya that much, but that's all. I can't and won't promise ya that I won't put a bullet into his cold, miserable black heart."

"Fair enough, boy," Val answered. He placed a hand on Johnny's shoulder, squeezing tightly. "I couldn't be prouder of ya, if ya were my own boy, Johnny."

Johnny continued hugging his body, as he thoughts drifted back to the last time he saw his mother alive, vibrate, laughing as she tossed back her long, raven black hair. She had brought home enough money to last them a month from her night of dancing from coins tossed in the saloon. He stopped dwelling on what happened next, chiding himself, "Don't go back there now, keep focused on the job at hand." Fortunately, Mandy stirred from her rest to draw Johnny's attention to the here and now.

"Hey," the sleepy girl said as she sat up, yawning widely.

"Hey, Mandy, feel any better?"

"Some, did you get any time to rest?"

"Nope, do that later. Val and me were busy. Are you hungry? I sure am. How about changin' that dress? You, me and Pardee are goin' for chow. Then our friend here can get the hell out of your room, give us peace and quiet. He don't like bein' cooped up all day, makes him fit ta be tied."

She giggled at the thought of the lanky man getting flustered over anything. He seemed to be composed; he had a quiet, strong determined attitude about himself, just like Johnny. She wondered if Val might not be his daddy.

"Ya think I'm jokin', don't ya? Well, I'll tell ya one thing, if he's still here when we get back, I'll be mad, from lack of foolin' around with ya today, first McHugh buttin' in, then Pardee and Hamilton and now Val."

Mandy giggled as Johnny snatched her into his arms lifting her from her bed. "It is proper to call your pa by his first name, Johnny?"

Johnny cradled her in his arms, turned towards Val who was softly guffawing by the window, "He ain't my pa, just thinks he is."

"Oh, you two seem so much alike; I thought maybe he was your pa."

Johnny watched her lips moving; they were just begging to be kissed, plump, rosy, slightly parted, the tip of her tongue licked first her upper lip, then her lower lips. Johnny leaned over to kiss them with a grin, but not before his stomach growled announcing there was a more pressing need requiring attention.

"Hurry up Mandy, we missed lunch and my belly's moanin' from lack of food."

Val rolled his eyes at Johnny, "Better do it Mandy, never knew anyone who could eat as much as this one and never show it neither. He stays skinny as a bean pole."

"Put me down, so I can change my dress."

Johnny complied with her request and humming a little ditty as she stepped behind a folding screen in the corner of the room. She had her back to the screen while shimmying out of her clothes. Johnny peeked around the screen just in time to be rewarded with a glimpse of her naked backside before she donned her clothes that were hanging from a wall peg board.

"Woo-wee Mandy!"

Mandy straighten up in time to register Johnny's lopsided grin with his head cocked to one side admiring the view.

"Oh, you!" she giggled throwing her discarded garment at his head. "Not like you haven't already seen what I look like without my clothes on."

"Don't mean I can't appreciate the view again."

Val kept his eyes averted towards the street, watching as a wagon and team pulled to a stop in front of the barber shop. A couple of Hamilton's men went inside and came out staggering under the weight of the heavy laden unadorned pine box that held the moral remains of Sean McHugh.

"There goes one, Johnny."

"One down, a dozen or so more ta go, Val. Hope ya friends are up ta the job."

"Yea, me too Johnny. Ya checked that the box canyon was undisturbed, right?"

"Yup, after I got McHugh strapped onto his horse we rode by. Just don't hit the trip wire."

"I know, Johnny. Who the hell do ya think taught ya how rig one of them?"

"Johnny, can you button these last few, I can't reach them?" Mandy asked.

Johnny and Val both stared at the transformation, no longer looking like a saloon girl, Mandy was wearing a dress that made her look like...well a lady. It was long dark blue with black trim with a skirt that swayed when she walked. A row of buttons ran from the neckline to the base of her back, tiny black buttons, which rolled side to side in Johnny's fingers as he fumbled with them.

Mandy had brushed her long auburn hair which gleamed and had tied a black velvet ribbon around her head, holding her hair away from her long, alabaster neck.

"Whoopee, Mandy ya sure are pretty."

"Thank you, my kind sir. You know I wasn't always a saloon girl. My family would have been considered well-off, not rich, but certainly not poor."

"Mandy, you don't have ta explain anything ta me. Any man would be a fool not ta be proud ta have ya on his arm. Ain't that right, Val?"

Val nodded at the couple, "Johnny, 'bout time ya two made your way out of here. Take your time at supper, keep Pardee occupied. If ya can get away undetected, I'll see ya later. If not then see ya in a couple of days. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Shit, Val, like what else is there?"

"Johnny, just watch ya back. Don't take any cards from the bottom of the deck."

"Que sera, sera mi amigo."

Poignant looks between Val and Johnny were exchanged, each man thinking identical thoughts but neither one willing to voice their deep concern. They realized that this could be the last time either one saw the other. Both knew the risk involved as they set off to free the citizens of Yuma from the tight strangle hold Milt Hamilton and his hired killers held over them. The dice had been thrown, results yet to be revealed if they were the dreaded snake eyes or a lucky seven. Snake eyes long associated with acts of treachery and betrayal, Val and Johnny anticipated the worst while hoping for the best.

"Val, take care, okay amigo."

"Yup, Johnny, ya do the same."

# # #

Johnny and Mandy made their way downstairs, only a handful of miners were there, playing cards, tossing back shots from the various bottles on the tables. Bella and Rosa were standing behind different men, looking bored at the slow pace of the card game, their arms draped over the men's shoulders, periodically reaching over to refill empty glasses. In the corner, someone had turned on the player piano; a perforated roll of paper was tinkling out the tune, "Polly Wolly Doodle."

Charlie stood behind the bar, wiping glasses down, he watched the couple descend the stairs, "Mr. Madrid, can I get you anything to drink."

"Nope, not now. Ya seen Pardee?"

"Mr. Pardee's outside with Mr. Hamilton."

"Thought he left?"

"Came back, I reckon."

"Hey Charlie!" yelled one of the miners. "Need another bottle over here, pronto!"

"Hold your horses; can't you see I'm talking with Mr. Madrid?"

"Yeah, we see...seems like now that Sean's not even cold in his grave, you ain't tending ta us like you should. Don't tell me we're gonna have ta report you to Mr. Hamilton."

Johnny turned to the miners with a sullen look, "He said ta wait. Ya'll wait until Charlie and me are done talkin'."

None of the miners were armed but even if they had been, none of them would have stood up to challenge the stony-eyed gunslinger in their midst. Johnny had navigated Mandy behind him, dropping his arm to his right side, fingers flexing as he used his stance to coerce the miners into submission.

"Now, listen here Mr. Madrid, we don't want any trouble. We're all on the same side. Figured with Sean gone, you're taking over for him to protect us," whimpered the one miner.

"That's what ya figured?" drawled Johnny.

"Yes...yessir, we did."

Johnny cocked his head at them, "Ya figured right, boys, startin' later. For now, mine ya manners in front of my gal and we'll get along." He relaxed his gun-fighter stance but kept his hand close to his gun.

"Charlie, buy the boys a drink on me, will ya," he flipped a coin to the barkeeper. He offered his left arm to Mandy, gave the miners a final glance as the couple pushed out the batwings.

Pardee and Hamilton had been watching from the shadows.

"Madrid, any wrong in there?"

"Nope, establishin' territory is all, lettin' them know where they stand around Mandy."

"Madrid, don't you threaten my miners ever again," snapped Milt. "Pardee, you better do your job and keep this punk toeing my line. I don't want any more of this bullshit taking place in my town, you understand?"

Pardee stared at Johnny, "Mr. Hamilton, he'll follow orders from now on, right Madrid?"

Johnny returned Pardee's stare, eyes shifted to Hamilton for a split second, "Yeah, sure Day."

"See to it that he does!" Hamilton threw the cigar he had been smoking to the boardwalk, crushing it to nothing with his boot tip. "I don't want any more problems from him or anyone else in this town. You got it, Pardee?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Hamilton, got it."

Johnny watched Hamilton as he stormed off the boardwalk, mounted his horse. Quickly five or six of Hamilton's bottom of the barrel, third-rate hired guns scurried to mount their horses to chase after Hamilton; who was already galloping out of town, leaving a trail of dust swirling in his wake.

"Madrid, do you have a death wish or something?" asked Pardee.

"No, Day, like I said I wanted them in there ta know where they stand in the game, that's all."

"John Madrid, don't you be thinking this is a fun and games. "It's not."

Johnny grinned broadly at Day, "Got it, Day. Now let's go eat. I'm hungry."

# # #

Val rubbed his forehead to release the taut tension knotting his brows. "One of these days that kid's mouth is gonna get him into a passel of trouble and I won't be around ta watch his back."

He thought back to the day that he dragged Johnny home, after his horse had nearly stomped on the rag muffin, lying in the road. Johnny had been a mixed bag of emotions, refusing to talk, and then when he did he was filled with hate, acting like he was tough. Val had no children of his own, at least none that he knew about, no little gal or pretty senorita had chased him down, towing a kid or two, claiming any to be his. This was a new experience for him to try and break down Johnny's walls that he had built to shield himself from the outside world.

Val set about the task at hand, similar to gentling a wild horse, wanting to manage the animal but not spook him and letting him kept his spirit intact. It wasn't straightforward; Johnny bucked him at every opportunity. Val wasn't the most patience man born under the sun that was certain, he tried not to let the little whippersnapper get under his skin. Val learned to read the boy's moods, when to back off and when he needed to throttle Johnny's backside. Val chuckled; yep they had their share of ups and downs in their relationship. Bit by bit Johnny learned his manners and Val was able to guide the young boy into the makings of a decent man.

To sustain their existence in the arid, desert land of west Texas that Val claimed as his home, periodically Val would go off and collect wanted men for their posted bounty. Johnny in the beginning would clamor to stay at their homestead ranch. But Val unsure of the kid's trustworthiness to stick around would drag him along on his hunting excursions. It gave Val the opportunity to evaluate the kid, see what he was made of and if he was ready and willing to learn from their travels.

Val proved to be a commendable teacher to the youth, showing him how to live off the land, where to find water in the desert, how to read tracks, how to communicate with the occasional Indian village they would stumble across, how to capture their prey without much fuss. Johnny was a quick and eager student, whose mind opened to Val's guidance.

But what the lad wanted most of all was to have his pistol back and learn how to use it. After much cajoling Val relented only if Johnny would pay attention to his directions and finish all his chores. Johnny quickly agreed and kept his end of the bargain, rushing through his daily chores like a hive of bees were chasing him. All so that Johnny could practice for hours on end how to do a quick draw, how to load his pistol as quickly as humanely possible and how to be accurate with his aim from various positions and ranges. Afterwards Johnny would clean, oil and rub the pistol until its wood stock gleaned in the light. Johnny practiced every day until his pistol was like an extension of his hand.

When a school first opened up in the territory, Val figured that Johnny needed to learn more than what he could teach him or how to use a gun. Each morning he would ride into town with Johnny, dropping him off at the one room schoolhouse, and then go do his own trading in town or read the latest wanted posters, planning for other hunting trips. No sooner had Val gotten to the trading post than Johnny was high-tailing it back to their ranch. Val would find him there practicing his quick draw or brushing down his horse.

Val first tried reasoning with Johnny as to why he needed to go to school and learn things that he couldn't teach him. When that failed and he found Johnny back on the ranch Val tried whopping the boy, who took the whoppings in stride, a sore backside wasn't going to sway Johnny to stay put. Next Val tried waiting outside the schoolhouse, but that didn't work either as Val just couldn't spend all day guarding the schoolhouse. Eventually Val gave in figuring that school just wasn't meant for Johnny, he had tried but with this Johnny was more stubborn than a twenty mule team refusing to budge in the hot desert sun. Shit all Johnny needed to do was to start braying like a jackass to complete the picture.

As time marched on, Johnny and Val were thought of by most folks as son and father. Neither Val nor Johnny offered anything differently. Johnny lost his Mexican dialect replacing it with a smooth, soft drawl of a native Texan, but Johnny never changed his eating habits preferring his meals spicy with hot peppers, the hotter the better, he liked to have the seed roll around his tongue before he chew them. Val though the boy was loco, but then Johnny refused to drink Val's coffee, thinking it tasted like garbage rotting in the hot sun.

Johnny watched and learned a lot of valuable lessons from the man he had come to respect and admire as a friend and as his father figure. Val taught him how to behave around females, tipping one's hat, carrying packages, being kind and polite, he also taught him to stand up for his beliefs, how not to be push around by others, which was another reason Val gave in to Johnny about attending school. Hell he taught Johnny that lesson too well.

Eventually Johnny got to the age where he was restless and wanted something more. Val would sometimes find Johnny out by the corral staring off into the distance towards the west. He never pushed or pried into his inner most thoughts; rather tried waiting the boy out to see if he would open up about what was troubling him. One night as the sun's sinking displayed a wide array of orange, reds and yellows Johnny told Val that he had things he had to do. He would always appreciate everything that Val had done for him but he was ready to take off on his own.

Val wasn't surprised, he had been watching Johnny for months on end, chomping at the bit to go off and stand on his own two feet. Val had wrestled with what he would do when the time finally arrived that Johnny needed to heed the call to up and go. Would he let him go or try holding on to him longer? He didn't know, figured that when the time came they would sort it out then.

Johnny had been with Val for five years now, but knew that he needed to go out on his own. He had his horse, his six-shooter and a rifle, a few shirts, a jacket and his saddle. The next morning he and Val finished their breakfast, Val handed him his saddlebags that were filled with supplies. They walked out to the corral and saddled Johnny's horse together in silence. Val filled his canteen with fresh, cold well water and attached it to the saddle horn.

"Well, this is it Val, time for me ta set out."

"Where ya headed Johnny?"

"Not certain, just know I need ta be movin' on."

"Ya always welcomed back here boy, anytime."

"Thanks, Val, for everything ya done for me."

"Shit, pissant, I'd have done it for anybody."

Johnny grinned cocky at him, "Yeah sure ya would have. Sorry I was such trouble ta ya."

"Not so much that I couldn't handle ya."

"Guess I'll be seein' ya around sometime, huh Val?"

"Maybe, ya just be sure ta keep that face of yours off any wanted posters, unless ya want ta be seein' me sooner than later."

"Hell, I don't want ya breathin' down my back. I'll try ta stay on the straight and narrow."

"Ya do that pissant."

They shook hands, Johnny mounted his horse, took one last look around the ranch before he urged his horse forward.

"Vaya con Dios (Go with God)," Val mumbled to himself, watching Johnny leave the yard.

Johnny stopped at the gate to turn and wave, shouted a chipper, "Adios Val!"

"Adios Johnny"" growled Val already feeling an emptiness in his heart grow. He stood in the yard watching until Johnny was a tiny speck far off in the distance. Val was not a man long on emotions but suddenly his ranch seemed too large and too quiet.

# # #

That day in some ways seemed to have been ages ago, but in reality only two years had passed since Johnny's departure. Val had heard bits and pieces of the boy's prowess with his quick draw skills. It was inevitable that somewhere, someone would cross paths with the youth, in his quest for whatever Johnny was searching for. Val truly reflected that one day; someone would challenge Johnny beating him at the dangerous dance he seemed to be hell bent on dancing, as the stories of Johnny's feats kept coming to him in bits and pieces. Johnny's legend seemed to grow with each new story told.

Occasionally Johnny would send a short letter to Val, in his scribbled handwriting, letting Val know that he was alive and well. Val had no way to return a letter unless Johnny told him where he was going to be for a spell. That was until the day Val received word that Johnny was in the Nogales, Arizona pokey, serving ninety days on a disorderly conduct charge, which was better than being charged with manslaughter after Johnny gunned down two men.

One man attempted to back-shoot him, after the other called him out onto the street, drawing first. Johnny sensing a trap was able to dispatch the man in the street, dropped to the ground, rolled behind a water trough. When a shot from above struck the trough Johnny sighted the position of the shooter, across the street on a rooftop, his shot struck the man, who fell through the building sign to the street, dead.

The local judge decided to crack down on other would be gunslingers that he did not tolerate gun play in his town. Johnny rather than be labeled a coward by taking off, peacefully surrendered his gun to the sheriff and accepted the sentence. He figured he could tolerate anything for at least ninety days. He spent the time playing checkers with the sheriff or the deputy on duty, sleeping and reading whatever was on hand. It was a boring existence as the time slowly ebbed by.

Providence and timing being everything Val heard from his old friend, Sheriff Owen Crowley via the newspaper editor and the judge that Yuma needed his help. Val in turn was able to call in some favors to have Johnny released into his custody seeing as how he was now the Deputy Sheriff of El Paso. Val gave his word that Johnny would be his responsible and that he would make certain Johnny finished his sentence in Yuma after helping free the town.

Val sent Johnny a telegram, letting him know that he was on his way and would soon see him. He had a job for him to do and wasn't taking no for an answer from the youth, Johnny Madrid or not.

Val rode into Nogales, springing a sheepish but grateful Johnny from his cell. Johnny and Val gathered the supplies they would need and rode off to help the town of Yuma. Along the trail, Johnny and Val set their plans into motion. Johnny found the hiding location for the supplies, while Val waiting for the most opportune time to sneak into town to meet up with Sheriff Crowley.

Using a trick Johnny learned from Val, he had hid the supplies in a box canyon. Johnny set a trip wire that if bothered by anything at least 18 inches from the ground would set a small avalanche of rocks and brush to tumble from the entrance wall. It wasn't large enough to barricade the canyon entrance but employed to frighten away any would be prowlers, thinking that the entrance was not safe to venture any further inside to investigate what may or may not be inside the canyon. Additionally the wagon loaded down with supplies was hidden in a small cave covered by a layer of cut brush with a few large tree limbs. One would really need to be looking for it in order to find it.

Johnny also spent time setting up hidden caches of dynamite while Val collected his friend's friends who had sent for him. With all eyes focused on Johnny making his brazen and bold ride into town, stirring things up, Val was able to get into town undetected with the trio. Now Val just needed to get out of Mandy's room undetected and back to the jail, tonight.

Chapter 11

The sun had set while the trio enjoyed their meal at the café. Even though it was a Sunday night, miners still drifted into town, some stopping to have their evening meal at the café or hotel dining room before strolling over to The Silver Jubilee. Still others by-passed the comforts of a solid home-cooked meal for an evening filled with beer, women, poker and song.

By the time their meal was finished and the trio returned to the Jubilee, the night was in full swing as the miners whiled away their dollars in trade of cheap and tawdry entertainment. Bella and Rosa sent vicious hateful looks towards Mandy, without her in their little trio; they were spending more time upstairs on their backs being drilled by the miners.

Johnny dropped his arm around Mandy's shoulders and whispered into her ear. She giggled and standing on tiptoes gave him a kiss, causing Bella and Rosa to throw her even more malicious glares.

"Mandy, head on upstairs."

"What about you Johnny?"

"Mandy, Johnny and I have some business to tend to. You go on and leave us alone."

"Johnny?"

"Mandy, I'll see ya later, just be sure ta lock the door. Don't want anyone bothering ya."

"Okay, Johnny, later," she smiled at him, flouncing past Bella and Rosa.

She retrieved her key from the chain around her neck and entered her room, relieved to see that Val was indeed gone. Lighting a lamp, she closed the curtains and stripped out of her clothes, humming a little tune, taking up her brush she began running it down her auburn hair, listening to it crackle from the brushing.

She next picked up the dime novel, stretching belly down on her bed, she began reading the story all about Johnny Madrid.

# # #

Meanwhile downstairs, Day and Johnny sat in the corner table, watching the activity, drinking a few shots of tequila. Charlie had been hovering over them until Day sent him away to go find someone else to bother.

In a hushed voice Pardee leaned across the table towards Johnny, "Madrid, tomorrow I want you and me to ride out to see the smooth operations Hamilton's got going here. Check and see what you think, where his weak spots are, what you would do to shore things."

"Day haven't ya already checked this out?"

"I want your opinion; see how your mind operates. If you're as smart as I think you are, you'll probably come up with the same points as me."

"Okay, when?"

"Well, Madrid you still have to do your target practice first thing, so Hamilton doesn't get suspicious. So late morning, the mines will be in full operations, we'll head out then."

"Sure Day," he finished his drink and stood up.

"Wait a minute, where are you going?"

Johnny grinned as he cocked his head towards the stairs, "Upstairs, a man needs a good night's sleep after dinner and a few drinks."

Day laughed, "John Madrid you best be careful that little gal don't sap all your energy."

"No worries there Day, I'll see ya, bright and early. Ya may want ta remind Charlie, I shot-up all the bottles this mornin' need more targets."

# # #

At the jail, Val and his helpers were preparing to head out of town to the box canyon. Sheriff Crowley had arranged for four horses to be saddled and waiting behind the livery stable, they just needed to get there undetected.

Sheriff Crowley unarmed had walked pass the Jubilee, while Val guided Travis Perkins, Judge Whitmore and his wife along the back alley, pass the back of the Jubilee. Waiting at the corner was Johnny, keeping his eye on the back door for any trips Charlie might make to the outhouse or depositing empty bottles to the collection barrel.

Mary had slipped out of her rustling dress and had donned a pair of men's trousers prior to their night venture. She had never known such freedom before, not to be burden with layers of petticoats. The trousers were a bit loose on her, but other than that feel wonderful, regardless of the risks they were all taking this evening, trying to slip out of town undetected. She decided she was enjoying this excitement.

Sheriff Crowley reached the livery stable where he slipped inside the side door. Oscar was busy wiping his brow, from anxiety of being caught aiding the Sheriff by any of Hamilton's men.

"Horses ready?"

"Ja, out back."

"Great, keep a lookout for the others, should be here directly."

Sheriff Crowley eased out back to check the saddle cinches and watched for anyone snooping around the stable. He noted that Oscar had even put bedrolls on the horses, along with canteens. "Good man."

Johnny waved the group over towards him, "Crowley's at the livery. Val, wait here, let me check out front, if it's clear, I'll strike a match. Move quickly."

"Okay, Johnny."

Johnny walked softly to the front corner of the Jubilee, removed his hat to sneak a peep around the corner. The player piano was going non-stop, still "Polly Wolly Doodle" rolled round and round, raucous laughter from drunken miners and shouts for more whiskey and beer were bantered about. Johnny struck the match, holding it up. Hearing the group moving forward, Johnny doused the match.

He crouched down to move along the boardwalk and peered inside the window. Pardee was still sitting at the corner table, drinking, alone. Charlie behind the bar looked bored. Johnny waved the group along, and he crept back to the side of the Jubilee, watching as Val and company made it inside the livery stable.

Johnny held his position for a few more minutes, until he saw that the group was walking their horses away from the stable and away from Yuma. The group walked until it was okay for them to mount up and ride, heading eastward. Johnny had been holding his breath, until they were safely out of the town. Relaxing a bit, Johnny with catlike grace climbed the exterior staircase and crept back inside Mandy's window.

"Whee, glad that part's over Mandy," he told the anxious girl waiting in the shadows. Prior to Johnny sneaking out the window she had put aside her tale of Johnny's heroics to douse her lamplight to keep the room dark.

"Me too."

"Come here, listen ta my heart poundin' in my chest."

"Mine too, Johnny. I thought all gunslingers were fearless."

"Yep for themselves, when other lives are at stake, it's a whole different set of rules."

"Oh, well let's see if I can't find a cure to relax you."

"I'll bet ya can," he said his voice husky with desire.

Reaching for the girl, Johnny quickly finished disrobing her to trace his fingertips against her silky skin, making her sigh with pleasure. A few probing kisses, her hands unbuckling belts, unfastening buttons and Johnny was shirtless. He toed off his boots and kicked out of his dropped pants, all the while he and Mandy remained lip-locked. Both out of their clothes, Johnny picked up the slight girl and carried her to the bed, where he gently put her down.

Soon the frame creaked and moaned in rhythm with their coupling as once again Johnny and Mandy discovered their hidden pleasures in the simple act of passion. Johnny adjusted his speed to accommodate Mandy's, she folded her slender legs around Johnny's back giving him easy access to her treasures.

Down below, Day tilted his head upwards as the squeaking of the bed could be heard if one listened for it over the player piano, now rolling out "Down in the Valley." Pardee smirked at the song playing while the lovemaking was ensuing above. He raised his glass up, "Ride boldly ride, Johnny Madrid" toasting the youth that would make him rich beyond his wildest desires.

Finishing his drink, he stood up, "Charlie, bottles to the livery for Madrid."

"Yessir, Mr. Pardee."

Day looked at the other two saloon girls, feeling the need but not sure which one was the lesser of the two evils. He grabbed Bella by the hand and pulled her towards the stairs. "Hell might as well plow a field myself tonight."

Chapter 12

Johnny woke to find a willowy leg draped over his taunt belly, the petite foot resting against his...well...against...his hum... privates. Being wary to not startle Mandy awake, Johnny moved her foot away ever so lightly to rest it upon the rumpled mess of sheets. She stirred in bed as he caressed her bare arm with a long tress of her hair. He watched her eyes flickered and fluttered, but remained closed. He traced the auburn strand across her cheekbones, down her nose, stroking her finely shaped neck grinning when she opened her eyes and smiled up at him.

"Mornin' sleepy."

"Morning handsome, sleep well?"

"I always sleep well with ya in my bed."

"Mmm, me too, with you I mean."

"I can see that, and as much as I would enjoy lingerin' longer...I need ta get my clothes on ta do away with some bottles. Stay put, get more sleep if ya can with the racket."

"Do you have too?" she protested.

"Yup, it's time ta put on the show. Won't be much longer, just a few more days."

"Johnny, you'll best be careful won't you?" She placed her hands on his arms, squeezing tight. "I don't want anything bad to happen to you. What with Val gone off, no one watching over you."

"I'll be careful, promise; nothin' bad is gonna happen, yet. 'Sides ya can watch over me."

"Not the same thing."

"Don't worry Mandy; as long as Pardee thinks I'm on his side, he ain't goin' let anything go wrong. He's more concern with countin' his haul than anything else. I need ta go, don't want Hamilton ta think I'm not followin' his orders." He stood up, pulled on his clothes, and buckled his rig on, adjusting it to fit just so around his narrow frame. Bending over he gave Mandy a kiss before stepping to the door, "Lock it, querida. I'll be back soon as I can."

# # #

Pardee got up to open Bella's door just as Johnny closed Mandy. Pardee slipped from Bella's room trailing after Johnny down the hallway. At the landing Johnny paused, "Day have a good night?"

Pardee clapped his hand on Johnny's shoulder, giving him a squeeze, "It was passable, and my guess not as pleasurable as yours was. Once I take over this town, I'm going to send away for some of those fine French whores they have in New Orleans. Get maybe a dozen to class this place up, add some Faro and Roulette tables as well."

"It's good for a man ta make plans and have some dreams ta work on," drawled Johnny.

"You have any, Johnny my boy?"

"Yea Day, been makin' plans every since I was a kid. One day I plan ta make certain they work out for me."

"Anything to do with that little filly in there that you seem to enjoy riding?"

Johnny looked towards the closed door before he answered, "Maybe, I always did like a smooth, easy ride ta start the day and a fast, hard ride ta end the day."

Laughing the pair went down stairs. Day looked around for Charlie, who wasn't there. He kicked the back room door opened to find the man sleeping. "Charlie, haul your ass outta of there and go get some breakfast ready for Madrid and me. We'll be back soon. You got the bottles hauled over to the livery last night, right?"

"Yessir Mr. Pardee, will do Mr. Pardee."

# # #

During the night Val and his band of freedom fighters had made their way to the box canyon. Val held the group back away from the entrance until day break. Then at first light he and Sheriff Owen searched for Johnny's trip wire. It took them awhile to locate it, Val finally spotted it; he carefully disengaged the wire so that they could enter the box canyon without disturbing the setup with a small landslide.

The riders rode into the depths of the canyon, finding where the wagon was hidden in a cave that Johnny had covered with brush. Here would be the group's home away from home for the next several days. Johnny had hidden a backup map to the locations where he had secured dynamite traps at various locations selected to wreck the most havoc on Hamilton's operations.

It would be up to the group to run the fuses to detonate the explosives; each person would be responsible for a location. Mary was with them since she steadfast refused to stay behind. She had just as much at stake in the taking back of her town as did her husband and the rest of the group. She would serve as lookout while her husband ran the fuse line.

Before the group could go out and do their assigned tasks, Val worked with them demonstrating how to wrap the fuses to the explosives and run the line. He made them practice over and over how to light the fuse, timing every step of their practice, honing their skills until there was no fumbling on their part. They practice first during the daylight to see what they were doing, then when Val felt they had built up their confidence he blindfolded them to see how well they could perform in darkness. Over and over they practiced, until their taskmaster was pleased with their progress.

Stopping for dinner and rest, the group's spirits were high as they knew they were improving. Val outlined in the dirt where everyone was assigned. He would handle Hamilton's home since that was where most of the hired guns were sequestered. Sheriff Crowley would handle the gold mine, while Travis Perkins took care of the silver mine. Leaving the Judge and Mrs. Whitmore to handle the steamboat dock. Val would be closest to the Judge in the event something unexpected occurred. Everyone knew the risks involved, with their plan to hit Hamilton from all directions at the same time.

Val fearful for the safety of Mrs. Hamilton, the Judge and Travis Perkins worked with them, instructing them in the fine art of loading and emptying both hand guns and rifles. They were slow and clumsy in their attempts. Val held his temper as he made them practice over and over with their arms and hands were aching from their exertions. Even Sheriff Crowley joined in to help direct them.

Val and Crowley made them practice creeping up on them at night, forcing them to walk almost silently, making them remove their boots and shoes to walk in stocking feet to feel with their toes to not snap any dry wood, or kick a rock loose.

At night after they were finished practicing their new skills the members of the group would fall asleep quickly on their bedrolls, relieved to let tired, sore limbs relax. For five days Val worked them, polishing them as best he could. On Saturday he let them alone to rest and contemplate their instructions. The mood in the camp was serious as tonight would be the night. All week long Val had drummed survival steps into his handful of freedom fighters, now it would be up to them to make it happen, Val reflected, "The good Lord willing and the creek don't dry."

He didn't know if Johnny would be able to join them, that was the plan if Johnny could get away from Yuma, undetected. But if not, his secondary function was to keep a lid on things, not let the pot boil over until he and the others had done their part and high-tailed it back into Yuma.

# # #

Johnny in the meantime had been a busy lad in his own right, between his morning practicing and his nightly bedding of Mandy; he was also integrating himself more and more with Day Pardee. The two had taken to spending their afternoons playing poker or riding out to check the progress at the mines. Johnny enjoyed Day's company; he and Day shared many similarities. Day was both fun and serious, had been a gunslinger for many years. It was a damn shame that he just happened to operate on the darker side of the law.

Day on the other hand felt he had found a kindred spirit with the young gunslinger. It was like a second chance for him to watch a little brother grow under his tutelage. He had had a younger brother that had died, trampled by a stampede that was started by men trying to take over his family's land. He lost his brother; father and mother in that stampede, along with their ranch house and all the cattle were driven off. This is what changed the previous affable teenager into one filled with hate and rage at the world. Somehow, he pulled it together to become a feared and dangerous gunfighter, taking away from others just like it had been done to him.

Johnny understood to a certain extend what Day had gone through, having somewhat the same experience. But Johnny was wise beyond his years and did not reveal what troubled him to Pardee. No Val had taught him well, not to reveal his hand, don't offer up anything that might come back to bit you in the ass. So Johnny mainly listened to Day and nodded his head in agreement.

The mines were busy, there were twenty miners each at both the gold and silver mines, hauling out the rocks, breaking them apart with pick axes, extracting the valuable minerals into canvas bags that were escorted down the hills with the hired guns watching over the men, making certain none of Hamilton's treasures found their way into any miner's pockets.

Johnny heard various stories about the vicious man he worked for. Everyone was quick to tell him how once under the thumb of Milt Hamilton, the only way to escape was death. This was why none of them attempted to leave Yuma, knowing that they would be hunted down and killed, they were little more than prisoners. Prisoners that at least could come and go into town nightly, get drunk, get laid, play cards and eat a decent meal but they were never going to get away, not until the mines played out and that didn't seem possible for a long time to come.

A few miners had made the costly mistakes of trying to cheat Hamilton and were severely horse-whipped by Hamilton after they had been spread-eagled fasten between a rig set-up at the base of the mines. Hamilton was unforgiving as he flayed the backs of the miners, sweat dripped from his brow in his frenzy of striking their backs raw. He took further sadist satisfaction by dribbling boiling salt water onto the damaged skin. The shrieks of pain were music to his ears as he extracted his own brand of pain and punishment on those who dared to cheat him.

Those miners, wore nothing more than their union suit with torn tops were then flung over the backs of mules, their hands tied and their respective rope leading under the belly of the mules to their feet, there was no way for them to unfasten themselves. Cardboard signs were hung on the necks of the jackasses declaring them to be nothing more than a "Common Thief". From there the mules were taken out into the desert and sent packing with their loads.

Hamilton had Pardee bring Johnny to his house on Saturday morning. More so that Hamilton could brag about how he had taken over the town and driving the newspaper out of circulation for printing false, malicious lies about him. How he burned the Judge's house to the ground and now even the sheriff had turned tailed and running off, thanks to Johnny's superior target practice.

"Madrid, I like you, you've been good for my business," he said as he tossed leather pouches, one at Pardee and one at the youth.

"What's this?"

"Consider that a bonus for driving Sheriff Crowley out of town. He was sheriff in name only. Can't figure why he hung around so long but he finally snuck off in the middle the night."

"How do ya know I had anything ta do with him leavin'?"

Day chuckled, perched on the edge of Hamilton's desk, "Well who in the hell else is there shooting every morning. Guess he didn't think he could stand up to the competition and high-tailed it out of town with his legs tucked under his tailbone."

Johnny ducked his head, "Shit, just doin' my job is all."

Hamilton smirked, "You just keep doing your job, as long as the rest of those farmers are scared shitless, the better I like it. The better I like it, the more generous my bonuses are as long as my mines keep producing at the rate they are. Turning quite the profit, boys."

Johnny and Day exchanged quick looks; Day fought the impulse to lick his lips.

"Madrid, now that Crowley has vacated his office, I want for you and Pardee to take it over. Park yourselves outside the office, hell, go ahead and put on the tin stars if you want too. Let all those dirt farmers know you're here to stay."

Johnny grinned at him, "Yes sir, Mr. Hamilton."

"Looks like Yuma's got new sheriffs in town," smirked Day as he slapped Johnny on his back.

# # #

Back in Yuma, Day and Johnny hitched their horses to the rail in front of the sheriff's office. They walked inside and looked around the small office. The blinds had been rolled down, Johnny rolled them up to allow light to stream into the dim room.

Pardee checked the coffee pot on the top of the pot belly stove, "Pheww, this crap's been sitting around for awhile."

Johnny kept his head away from Pardee, as he was trying hard not to laugh, knowing that Day had just been introduced to Val's coffee making. Johnny didn't know too many people who could tolerate the bitter brew.

"Open the door Johnny, gotta pitch this out the door. May even need to toss the pot and get a new one."

"Probably best ta do that Day, why don't ya go get one?" He opened a drawer on the desk and pulled out a badge. "Here ya go, sheriff."

"Aren't you putting one on, Johnny?"

"Nah, might be unlucky. I'll let ya have the honors."

Johnny turned to the gun rack, "Looky here Day, couple of Winchesters. Thought ya collected all the guns in town."

"Are they loaded?"

Johnny checked, "Nope."

"Must be the former sheriff had a stash hidden somewhere, but no bullets to use wasn't going to help him much. We already confiscated all the bullets from the General Store, so the former sheriff was shit out of luck, too bad for him. I'll get the coffee pot."

"Ya, sounds good Day," Johnny smiled as Pardee left. He then reached underneath the left side of the desk to grab the box of bullets. Whistling Johnny loaded the rifles and put them back into the rack fairly certain that Day wouldn't bother with them believing them to be empty. He next found the cell keys in a top drawer and hid them underneath a loose floorboard, just in case anything backfired he didn't want him or his cronies locked in cells. He'd rather take his chances with shooting it out.

# # #

Mandy was fretting, she was spending way too much time locked away in her room. She had read the dime novel all about Johnny's exploits; maybe some were real but for certainly some of them were made-up. She knew that Johnny was back in town as his black and white pinto was tied outside the sheriff's office.

Pacing back and forth in the small room, she made up her mind to go downstairs. She pocketed her derringer and next lifted her skirts to slide her pig sticker knife into her garter. Mandy decided to take the back exit out of the Jubilee to avoid any pissy looks from Bella, Rosa or Charlie. She had had her fill of them and wished they would all leave if and when the town was reclaimed by the citizens. She knew this would mean that she too would have to pull up stakes and leave, maybe Johnny would take her with him.

Chapter 13

In the box canyon, the camp site was quiet as each person was left in their own thoughts. Val sipped his coffee, taking in everyone's demeanor and actions. They were as ready as they would ever be, unless Val had another week to work with them. He didn't think so; they had been pushing their luck as it was that no one stumbled upon their hideout. Campfires had been contained inside the small cave, where the group slept. Each person had taken turns patrolling near the entrance, with the exception of Mrs. Whitmore and all week long they had been left alone.

Fortunately Johnny had found this site which was about ten miles east of Yuma. Not an area that Hamilton or his miscreants roamed as the mines were to the north of town, the boat deck and river to the south and Hamilton's residence to the west.

Val didn't know what to think about Johnny not making it out during the week, other than he had a plan to keep, like he had one to follow. But for now, Val was taking time to just sit back and drink his coffee. His mind drifted back to ponder what his life was like before Johnny Madrid had dropped in and stayed a spell. He sure was glad to see the youth, who had changed feature wise a lot in the two years since he rode off like a man to make his way.

Yet, Val was not happy with the vocation Johnny has settled on, gunslinger. He knew that it was a mean, short way to live a life. Val hope at the conclusion of this he would be able to have a man to man discussion with Johnny to convince him to give it up. Roaming from one two-bit border town to another, hiring out his gun to anyone willing to pay his fee was no way for his boy to make a living.

Johnny had quietly told Val that all he wanted was "to be good at his trade." And Johnny was good, by far the best Val had seen. But he knew that there was always someone out there that wanted to take that reputation away for himself. It was only a matter of time and being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Somewhere even now someone was learning how to quick draw, practicing long hours shooting at cans, bottles, tree limbs, caressing the butt of a gun, learning the weight, the feel and the sightings, how a simple correction would change where the shot struck. No doubt about it Val wanted to take Johnny from this life he was living.

Val finished his coffee and stood up to stretch his legs. He was getting antsy waiting for night. The miners would be making their way into town to blow their wages, Hamilton should also spending the evening in town, watching with greedy delight as the miners once again lost their money in the crooked games.

Crowley came up to Val, "Val, just want you to know..."

"Never mind, Owen, ya do the same for me."

"Now Val, I don't rightly know about that. I don't have any connections with any gunslingers. No way could I have gotten Johnny Madrid to come help without you. We're just awful glad to have your help."

"Owen, there ain't any self-respectin' lawman I know that would let dirty scum like Hamilton get away with what he's doin' ta the town."

"Just the same Val, we appreciate you sticking your neck out for us."

Val hitched his pants up, cleared his throat, "Harrumph. "Taint nothin', just be sure to do ya part tonight and by this time tomorrow, Yuma should be back in the hands of the honest citizens. Ya just keep ya promise ta me everything is all said and done."

"I will Val."

# # #

Mandy pulled open the door to the sheriff's office and spied Johnny sitting behind the desk with his feet up, drinking a cup of coffee with Day. She stomped her foot, "Johnny, I thought you were going to spend the day with me."

Pardee almost spit the coffee from his mouth at her outburst. He watched with interest as Johnny jumped up and crossed the room to wrap Mandy in his arms, "Now Mandy, ya ain't suppose ta be runnin' around without an escort."

"Oh pooh, Johnny, the two of you have everyone scared to even look at me. It's quite safe for me to go where I want."

"No, it ain't Mandy, now ya can go back ta your room or I'll lock ya up in one of those cells."

"You wouldn't dare."

Pardee was grinning, still sipping at this coffee.

"Mandy, I swear I will. Ya choose, the cell or ya room, what's it goin' ta be?"

She looked madder than a wet hen as she stomped her foot again and pulled away from Johnny. "Fine, I'll go but just don't plan on having a good night's sleep tonight." She slammed the door as hard as she could, stomping her feet sharply with each step away from the office.

Johnny shook his head.

"Women, can't live with them, can't live without them, eh Johnny?" laughed Pardee. "Have to show them who wears the pants once in awhile."

"I reckon."

"Don't let it worry you none, she'll get over it just as soon as you toss her onto her back and whisper sweet words of nothing in her ear."

"I ain't worry, Day.

"You sure? Looking a bit glum to me. Maybe you want to go after her and take care of her now?"

"Day, let it go. Come on, let's go park it outside and watch the dust settle on the town. This is just about the quietest town I've ever been in on a Saturday afternoon."

Johnny grabbed a chair from in front of the desk and prodded Day to do the same. They sat down stretching legs out to the full extend and watched the doings of the town. Only a few farmers had come into town to do their trading, a few brave wives hanging onto to their men folk for dear life. Johnny and Val were well aware that their appearance at the front of the jail was creating gossip inside the General Store, but that was to be expected.

Johnny was getting antsy, waiting, not wanting to give anything away, he jumped up, rubbing his stomach, "Day, I'm hungry, are ya?"

"Nope."

"Well I sure am, think I'll get some chow and take some ta Mandy."

"Johnny, you aren't getting soft are you?"

"No, Day, just hungry. Mandy and me work up a pretty good appetite."

"I'll bet, go on get out of here and get some grub. Go visit your gal. Guess that's what they mean by having your cake and eating it too."

"Maybe, see ya later."

# # #

"Mandy, open up."

"Go away."

"Mandy, open this door now, unless ya want me ta kick it in."

"Go ahead."

"Mandy!"

Johnny heard her move towards the door and turned the key. She opened the door a crack to see Johnny standing there holding a tray with a covered cloth.

"Mandy, I brought food, now stop playin' around. Let me in."

She held the door opened and Johnny entered the room, "What's got into ya Mandy? Ya know I'm busy right now."

"I'm getting tired of being cooped up in this room with nothing to do, that's what's gotten into me. I'm bored."

Johnny set the tray down and grabbed her into his arms, kissing her hard before shaking her a little, "Now listen ta me Mandy. I don't care if ya're bored...better that than be in the line of fire and take a bullet here," he touched her lips and kissed them. "Or here," he touched her neck and kissed it. "Or here," he caressed her breasts, softly cupping their mounds, making the girl moan.

"Don't stop, Johnny."

"I must, Mandy. I want ya ta understand that bein' on the street today is not where I want ya. I promise ya that it will be dangerous and I want ta know that ya are safe. Ya need ta stay put. Do I have ya word on this?" he tilted her chin up to look at her eyeball to eyeball.

"Yes, Johnny," she agreed.

"Good. Now sit down and let's eat."

# # #

An hour later, Johnny was back with Pardee, less antsy than before, with a spring in his gait as he strolled from the Jubilee to the sheriff's office, whistling a happy tune.

"Well, you look like you enjoyed your cake."

"Cake?"

"As in having your cake and eating it too...cake."

"Yup, I did. Anything goin' on outside?"

"Not a damn thing. So Johnny let's talk, when do you want to take over from Hamilton?"

"Been thinking about this, ya want me ta challenge Hamilton?"

"Good idea," pondered Day. "He won't expect that from you and I can take care of the others to stay out of it."

"Okay...but when?"

"No time like the present, John Madrid. Tonight?"

"Sure, tonight's fine. What about the others...the third rate guns?"

"When they ride in tonight, Hamilton will first go to dinner. I'll go stand guard over him, send the others off to the Jubilee. You call him out onto the street and shoot him dead."

"Sure he'll be wearin' a gun?"

"Always on Saturdays since the town is pretty busy. Never know if one of the miners might get a little rowdy after drinking too much."

"Okay, then what? The others will come ta check it out. What about them?"

"Shoot 'em or lock 'em up. I'll back you. Then we head to the Jubilee and set-up shop."

"The miners? Where do they fit in?"

"They can join us or suffer the consequences. I don't think they'll put up any resistance to you or me. You in Johnny boy?"

"Yeah Day, I'm in."

Chapter 14

Darkness came quick and more pronounced as there wasn't a sliver of moon in the night sky, just thousands of twinkling stars, forming familiar constellation groupings. Using the Polaris, better known as the North Star, Val guided his freedom followers from the canyon. They slowly followed the trail leading them closer to Yuma.

Each rider had their fuses and blasting caps to set off the charges, along with additional bundles of dynamite incase the ones Johnny had planted either could not be located or if found would not hold a charge. Johnny had marked the bundles with a trio of slashes marks on tree trunks, as well as building short pyramids of rocks, always with a painted white rock at the top of the pile to indicate where the dynamite was hidden. Val didn't think that they wouldn't find the markings and since there had been no rain in the past two weeks he reckoned that the charges would go off without a hitch. But no sense in sending people out without back-up explosives as a precaution. Val would much rather err on the side of caution rather than come up short-handed when push came to shove.

Stopping about a mile out of town, pocket watches were checked, making simple adjustments to synchronize their settings. Val had allocated each party with enough time to get into their position, run the fuse lines, set the blasting caps and/or set their up backup bundles with the precision of a battle tested commanding officer. Val timed the detonations to all go off at precisely nine o'clock, or as close to nine o'clock as possible, barring no unforeseeable interruptions.

Watching as his team moved off to their target destinations, Val thought to himself, "Fourth of July comes early ta these parts this year." Val silently wished each member good luck as they navigated their separate paths to their goal with determination to fulfill their portion of the mission. His thoughts drifted to Johnny, hoping that all was well on his end. He knew that he would soon find out.

# # #

Johnny and Day decided to make rounds on the town while they waited for Hamilton to appear. Day took one side of the street and Johnny the other. Johnny had double-checked his gun, had placed extra bullets in his jacket pocket for quick reloading, not wanting to fumble with pushing cartridges out of his gun belt. His back-up pistol was tucked in the back of his pants' waistband.

If at all possible he wanted to take Hamilton alive to stand trial for what all he had done. With the local judge presiding, he was sure that Hamilton would be quickly dispatched to the Territorial Prison in New Mexico for a quick stop after a short fall from the gallows.

Miners had begun their trek into Yuma, their weekly pay in their pockets. Like before some headed for food, some to the bathhouse, while other went unswervingly through the batwings at The Silver Jubilee for drinking, whoring and poker.

All the fine folks of Yuma had long since abandoned their Main Street businesses for the day. They were ensconced in their own little worlds of locked doors and barred windows, living fearful existences, not aware as to what horror and drama might play out on their streets this Saturday night from the likes of Milt Hamilton. Little realizing that tonight would bring Hamilton's dynasty utter annihilation, mayhem around his heels with the strong possibly of freedom for the town as their brave representatives slowly picked their way to their targets.

No citizens of Yuma knew that at this very moment Travis Perkins, a meek and mild mannered owner and operator of their defunct town newspaper along with their Judge and petite sweet wife and the recently run-off sheriff were traveling the back roads. No citizens could possibly imagine that those aforementioned carried enough dynamite to blow themselves to kingdom come if there were any slip-ups on their part. Or worst yet be taken prisoner by any of Hamilton's jackals, their lives would be forfeited for the good of many. No, the townspeople were completely in the dark of what was happening outside their city limits. Had any of them known what was going on they might have inadvertently with a slip of the tongue tipped off any of the corrupt mercenaries while going about their business. Far better for them to remain clueless.

Only Johnny knew precisely what was going on tonight. As he walked along the quiet boardwalk, he tried doors handles testing to make certain everything was locked up tight, figuring, that he may as well play the part of being the town sheriff. He kept his emotions in check, not wanting to appear anything but cool to Pardee.

Pardee joined him at the end of the street, "Madrid, here comes Hamilton, now. You stay back and let me get the others away from him. Wait until Hamilton has gotten his meal; I'll strike a match to signal you as soon as the food arrives. Come in and call him out."

"Any particularly reason ya want me ta use?"

"Yea, tell him that besides new sheriffs are now in town, those sheriffs are partners in the mining business. Tell him it's an unfriendly takeover. That'll piss him enough to knock him off kilter."

"Gotcha, Day."

Pardee hurried down the boardwalk to greet Hamilton at the café. Johnny watched from the shadows as Pardee sent the half-dozen gun hawks, in the direction of the Jubilee.

Johnny flipped opened his borrowed watch that Val left for him in Mandy's room. It was a quarter to nine. Nine was the pre-set time that everyone was gunning for. Johnny paced back and forth waiting for the minutes to mark down. Viewed minutes always seemed too tick twice as slowly as time not scrutinized. Johnny pulled the watch out three, four, five times before he began his walk to the café.

Day was standing by the window, struck a match to light a cigarette, he saw Johnny heading towards them. "Madrid coming, Mr. Hamilton. You want me to invite him in?"

"Sure," he answered as he shoveled food into his mouth, stopping to sip his wine. He took another bite of his steak, when the door creaked opened.

"Hamilton?"

"Sit, Madrid," he waved him towards the chair.

"No, Hamilton, ya get up."

"What?"

"I said get up. I'm callin' ya out."

"What's the matter with you boy? Pardee, take him down!"

"Sorry Hamilton, we decided to end the one man ownership of the mines. Johnny and me are going into business as partners. You're finished."

"I'll see the two of you in hell first!"

"Maybe," drawled Johnny. "But I doubt it. Get up. Inside or outside? Makes no difference ta me."

"Don't you know, boy, trash belongs on the street."

Johnny cocked his head, drew his arm across his body towards the door, "After you, Hamilton."

He wiped his mouth, tossed his napkin, "Pardee, you stay out of this! I'll tend to you after I kill this whelp."

"Okay, Hamilton, we'll see about that. Guess you weren't watching the whelp's target practice. I told you he's pretty damn good, maybe even better than me."

Johnny followed last, pacing backwards from Hamilton in the dim, grainy light, with only the street torches flickering and some backlight spilling onto the street from the cafe and the Jubilee to play across their features. Johnny smirked as he noticed the uncertainly appear in Hamilton's eyes as it dawned on him that he was being challenged by someone perfectly capable of ending his life within seconds. Day leaned his shoulder against a beam, casually inhaling his cigarette.

Suddenly a massive explosion sounded, echoing off the canyon walls, followed by a second, then a third and a fourth thundering detonation. The ground quaked with each vibration, horses tied to hitching rails pulled against their reins, wanting to run off, the hanging lamps within the buildings swayed back and forth from the impact. Johnny remained where he was, his feet holding firm to the ground he had claimed as his. His expression remained the same, just a crooked little smirk at Hamilton, willing the man to keep his eyes on Johnny.

Pardee jumped staring down Main Street, "What the fuck was that?"

Hamilton did the same, "Pardee, you sonofabitch, what the hell have you done?"

"Me? I didn't do a damn thing."

Johnny yelled, "Hamilton, make your fuckin' move, gringo bastard!"

Hamilton turned back around to see Johnny in the shadows, waiting for him; Hamilton's mind was reeling, what was happening to his world? It was falling apart right before his eyes; miners, gun hawks and townsfolk alike were spilling out on to the street in the confusion and chaos that was ensuing. Yet Johnny held firm, waiting for Hamilton to reach for his pistol.

Hamilton with a wild, frenzy grabbed for his gun and fired, his shot fell short as he missed his adversary. But Johnny's shot rang true, striking Hamilton in his left leg. Hamilton yelped from the burning pain as the bullet hit him right above his kneecap, in rage he fired again, this shot closer but still in the dirt at Johnny's feet. Johnny decided not to play with Hamilton anymore, fired not a fatal shot but striking Hamilton's right hand, causing the gun to fall harmlessly to the ground.

"Kill 'em Madrid," yelled Pardee.

"No, Day, take a look around. I think it's better ta leave him ta the townspeople ta finish him. Ya and me better high-tailed it out of here and see what the hell is goin' on. Looks ta me like we're under attack by someone. Don't know about ya, but there ain't enough gold or silver ta make me want ta hang for that bastard's deeds."

Johnny jumped onto Apache, waiting to see what Pardee did. He took note of the confusion on the street and jumped on his horse.

"Madrid, check the silver mine. I'll check the gold mine. Meet me at the salt mine as soon as you know something. Watch ya back, boy!"

"Ya too, Day."

# # #

Val smiled when the first bang vibrated off the canyons walls, the second one he could see from his vantage point and the Whitmores came through with flying colors at the boat deck, blowing it sky high, timbers splintering, and water whooshing into the air. Val's blast was purely fantastic as Hamilton's house fell like a house of cards, the walls caving in on each other, dust and sparks soaring high into the air as debris caught fire.

"Well, Hamilton I would say ya are outta of business, effective immediately," he shouted.

Val mounted his horse and met the Whitmores in the shadows of the demolished boat landing. They waited for the others to join them. Shortly before Travis and Owen reached them the others saw Pardee gallop by on his big buckskin horse. Val didn't believe Pardee noticed them, too hell bent on riding out of town.

Soon Johnny raced by, but seeing the group pulled up, shouting, "Val, that was great! Hamilton's locked in the jail, got two bullets in him."

"Dead?"

"Now why in the hell would I lock up a dead man, Val? That just don't make any sense."

Val laughed, "Okay, Johnny guess that was a stupid question. What's goin' on in town?"

"Well, the townspeople are out in the street tryin' ta figure out what happened. A couple of the gun hawks took off the other direction but the miners threw four of them into jail, after I handed them the keys. I think the miners are relieved not ta have Hamilton in their face."

"What about Pardee? He rode by like a bat outta hell."

"He's goin' ta check the gold mine."

"He's out of luck, plugged that sucker up but good, and the silver mine," said Owen as he and Travis pulled up.

Val smiled, "Okay Johnny, snap these on." He tossed a pair of handcuffs to Johnny, who caught the silver object tossed at him.

"Uhh Val? What the hell's goin' on?"

"Johnny, put them on, ya under arrest."

"Ya mind explainin'? What did I do?"

"Johnny it's a perfect solution. This saves ya ass from Pardee lookin' for it, let's Hamilton and his cronies think ya ain't in on the restoration of the town and well, technically ya still have forty-five days on your sentence in Nogales."

"So? Doesn't anything I've done count towards time off for good behavior?"

"So? Let me tell ya something, Johnny, in order ta get ya ass out of the pokey, I gave my word that ya finish your sentence. That's forty-five more days, boy."

"God damn it Val. Ya can't do this ta me."

Val got down and pulled Johnny from his saddle, "Listen pissant, don't make me whomp ya ass. I gave my word and ya stuck with that. And with me. Put these on, now before I lose my temper."

"Shit, Val, this ain't fair," but he snapped the metal onto his wrists, holding them up to Val to check that they were locked. "Happy now?"

"Yep," he reached down to remove Johnny's six-shooter, twisting him around he grabbed the one in the back of his pants. "See ya at least follow some of my advice."

"Madre de Dios Val, this is the last time I'll help ya, bastardo."

Val laughed, "Johnny forty-five days ain't nothin' but don't forget the Judge is standin' right over there. He might give ya more time, or seein' that ya ain't officially legal yet, make me your guardian. That means I can kick your ass or keep it in jail if I want ta. If I were ya, Johnny I'll drop the gunslinger bravado, pronto amigo. Justice will be dealt all around Yuma, includin' ya."

Johnny bit his lips, holding his thoughts from being blurted, "Shit, it's like I was friggin' ten-years old all over again and his holdin' all the cards. Stop buckin' the man Johnny, he means it."

He kicked at the dirt, eyes averted towards the ground, calming himself down before lifting his eyes to Val, he mumbled low, "Yessir."

Val grinned, "That's more like it, pissant."

Mrs. Whitmore came to stand alongside Johnny, patting his shoulder, "There, there dear. I'm sure Mr. Crawford is only thinking of what is best for you." She reached out to brush his hair from his eyes. "I'll see that we put some meat on your bones with feeding you proper meals. You'll like that, won't you? Get a proper haircut, some clean clothes; you'll be like a new young man."

"Yes ma'am," Johnny mumbled. "Sorry ya overheard my bad language." His mind was racing, "Shit! Shit! Shit! I will get even with ya Val if it's the last thing I do."

"Tut, tut, dear, think nothing about it. I'm sure it's the suddenness of the surprise."

"Ya got that right...ma'am. That and that I ain't never appreciated havin' my life organized...ever."

"Well, dearie, looks like you haven't any choice in the matter."

"Yes ma'am," Johnny glared at Val but to no avail. Val had turned the tables on him and was smirking at him, enjoying Johnny's predicament. There was no way out for the lad and he knew it.

Chapter 15

Forty-five days later Yuma was still celebrating their freedom from Milt Hamilton. Miners had gone back to work, only this time they worked for the town, everyone was equal partners in the ownership of the mines. Miners were paid fairly for their hard work at digging out the mines from the rubble the freedom fighters had caused. Actual mine production was still a few weeks' away as the charges set were more powerful than anticipated. Both the silver and gold mines had the two sets of blasts rocking the earth, causing maximum rubble and clean-up.

The new steamboat dock was almost finished and what was left of Hamilton's home had been raked for gold and silver deposits. Piles of the minerals were discovered in the charred remains. Money from there was used to repair the town, add more buildings and shared with the townspeople equally.

The schoolhouse was now opened, people walked about the town with spring in their steps, shouting "halloos" across the street with gaiety. Kids played kick the can in the street, jumping ropes and tossing balls, running about, giggling and laughing. The dark cloud that had hung over Yuma had been fully dissipated and everyone felt like huge weights had been lifted from their shoulders.

Hamilton had been patched up, stood trial and was sentenced by the Honorable Judge Thomas A. Whitmore to twenty years hard labor at the Territorial Prison, breaking rocks in the hot sun, he fought the law and the law ultimately won. In all likelihood he would forever walk with a limp thanks to Johnny Madrid. The third-rate gun hawks were shipped along with Hamilton chained in the prison wagon to each serve ten years hard labor for their part in terrorizing the citizens of Yuma. Day Pardee had departed the area for parts unknown with whatever gold he had in his saddlebags. If he knew that Johnny had been locked up, no one knew for sure since he wasn't seen in Yuma again.

After the prison wagon came and went, Johnny was left alone in the Yuma jail, except that he wasn't alone very often; Mandy visited him every day. Mrs. Whitmore and the other ladies in town brought him plenty of home-cooked food. And true to her word Johnny did put on a few pounds with all the delicious cakes, cobblers, cookies and pies. Val and Owen played checkers and cards with him to help pass the time.

However, Johnny was not enjoying his forced confinement to say the very least. When not eating, talking with visitors or playing games Johnny was bored and took to pacing his small cell. His up and down pacing with the jangling of his spurs that he refused to remove, drove Val and Owen outside leaving Johnny alone in his misery until he settled down or fell asleep. Johnny at least had some small enjoyment at battling Val over those spurs; there was no way in hell he would hand them over. After all a man's got to have some advantage over his jailer.

The Silver Jubilee was under new management; Travis Perkins decided to take it over. He kept Charlie on under the stipulation that he pay penance by helping rebuild both the newspaper office and the Whitmore's' home. Charlie grateful to not be under the constant threat of dire harm to his well being, actually cleaned up, shaved off his beard and people saw him laughing and smiling as he helped out.

Bella and Rosa decided they had enough of the town, now that the newly formed women's league was pestering them to stop their whoring ways. The women's league was a group of busy bodies out to harass everyone into socially appropriate behaviors. They swarmed like locusts on Bella and Rosa, not giving them a moment's peace until they caught the next stage out of town, destination, like Pardee was unknown.

Mandy had decided that she had enough of being a saloon girl decided to head back home and make amends with her family. Maybe she would finish school, perhaps become a school teacher or maybe she would start a business for herself. She knew she was changed forever by meeting Johnny who treated her differently than any other man had done before.

She waited to leave until Johnny was released from his cell before telling him of her plans. Johnny held her tight in his arms, rocking side to side, softly kissing her hair.

"Mandy, I got something ta help ya start a new life."

"What?"

"Hold on," he dug into his saddlebags and handed her two leather pouches of gold coins. "Take these."

She looked inside the bags, "Oh Johnny, I can't take these; you earned the money, not me."

"Mandy, I want ya ta have them. I never expected ta get this from Hamilton. Let his dirty work do something good for ya. Go start a new life."

"Johnny, come with me?"

Val stepped outside the sheriff's office in time to hear her, "Sorry Mandy, Johnny's goin' back with me. He's got a three months probation before he's free and clear of the long arm of the law. I aim ta see him keep his word ta me and the law."

Johnny nodded, "Yep, Mandy, I'm stuck with Val."

"Like hell pissant, I'm the one saddled with ya."

"Mandy, ya'll write, won't ya?"

"Of course, Johnny," even as she said it both knew that this was not to be. This was it, they were parting ways forever.

A final deep, lingering kiss before Val pulled them apart, "Hate ta break this sweet partin' but Mandy ya stage is ready ta leave. Allow me ta help ya."

She reached up to pat his cheek, rough with a scratchy beard, "You take care of Johnny, he's pretty special to me."

Val cleared his throat, touched her hand and helped her up into the stage, "He's pretty special ta me as well, Mandy. Ya take care of yourself, little lady."

Mandy waved to Johnny, blew him a kiss as the stage lurched forward.

Val walked back to Johnny who had crossed his arms tight against his chest, dropping his head down. Clapping a solid hand to his shoulders, Val said, "Let's go home, Johnny."

"Home, sure Val," Johnny said. "That sounds good."

~Fin~

Sun Dancer

Notes: The bottle house that Johnny mentions in Chapter 7 really does exist in the ghost town of Rhyolite, Nevada (very close to Death Valley). I toured it and can tell you that it's quite unique. Doing some online research I discovered that the house was actually built circa 1905 during the gold rush of Rhyolite. There are 51,000 bottles that Tom Kelly used; it took him a year and a half to construct his dwelling. Interesting to note that some of the bottles were medicine bottles, but most were Busch beer bottles, throw-away from the 50 bars in town. That's a lot of bars! Apparently he did not wash the bottles as it would have cost him a small fortune for the water.

When I saw the ghost town there were only a few building facades still standing, the Bottle House is the most complete building. The town has also been used in various movies.


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